Chapter 9
Sonia Fairchild didn’t know whether to feel elated or enraged.
It had been far too long since she had tasted victory in battle—a taste that all Mercs craved. And yet, there was something about this victory that left her wondering if it was really even a victory at all.
If anything, she felt as though she had fallen into a trap.
She was on her knees in the middle of the octagon, surrounded on all sides by black chain-link, and beyond that the wide, mirrored space of the Allura’s workout room.
She was naked, save for two padded combat gloves, canvas wraps on her ankles and wrists, and a pair of wet panties.
Her skin was sheathed in perspiration. It rolled down her body in fat, oily beads, and dripped on the face of the gorgeous man smiling up at her from between her open legs.
She didn’t know whether to crush that face between the muscles of her thighs, or ride it until she got the release her body so desperately needed. How the hell had the man gotten under her skin so quickly?
“I hate you,” Fairchild whispered to her fallen opponent.
The smile between her legs didn’t waver. If anything, it grew brighter.
“I can work with that,” Nash said.
Before Fairchild could think of a reply, she was startled by a slow clap coming from the far side of the room. The sound was so unexpected, it damn near made her jump right out of her skin. She turned to see who was there.
It was Reece. The team leader was standing in the entrance of the workout room, leaning casually against the doorframe, clapping. Dutton was right behind him, arms folded, face like stone.
How had she not noticed them standing there before?
She’d been too focused on her fight with Nash, that’s how. Too focused on winning.
Fairchild fought the urge to cover herself.
Her sports bra was lying on the mat a few feet away.
She desperately wanted to grab it and pull it on, but she knew she mustn’t do that.
On Calyxia, such modesty could prove deadly.
She needed to break herself of the habit before they arrived. She needed to let them look.
It wasn’t her body she wanted to hide, but her arousal.
The tips of her breasts were pebble-hard and aching with desire.
The kiss she and Nash had shared up against the side of the cage was still coursing through her.
The memory of it still burned on her lips, just as the memory of his hardened manhood still lingered between her legs.
The wetness soaking her panties was more than mere sweat.
Reece pushed away from the door and strolled toward the cage. Dutton followed right behind him, silent as ever.
“So tell me,” said Reece. “Is it customary for you to fight in the nude?”
The words were like a match across a strike strip in her chest. Defiance flared inside her, hot and hissing.
“First,” she said. “I’m not technically nude. Second, it was Nash’s idea.”
Reece was standing right outside the cage now, his fingers hooked through the chain-link mesh. He flashed her a deadly-looking grin.
“Yes,” he said. “I imagine it probably was.”
With one quick motion, Reece yanked himself up to the top of the cage wall, and swung his legs over. He landed inside with a soft thud that belied his considerable mass.
Dutton came after him, and his entry into the cage was even more graceful.
The quiet Merc sprang up and grabbed ahold of the top of the cage, straightening his body into a perfect handstand.
He turned himself in a quick one-eighty, then swung back down again.
His feet made no sound as they touched down.
None that Fairchild could hear, at least, even with her augmetic enhancements.
Her heart raced faster. She was now closed inside a cage with not one, but three massive males. One of them was already fully aroused, and a quick glance at the others’ pants revealed they weren’t exactly “at ease,” to put it mildly.
Reece gestured toward Fairchild, and the body of his comrade sprawled beneath her.
“What exactly are the rules here?”
It was Nash who answered, and when he spoke, Fairchild could feel his breath ghosting against the most sensitive parts of her anatomy. The sensation raised goosebumps all over her skin.
“Each time a fighter goes down,” Nash said. “He has to take off an article of clothing—not counting wraps and gloves, of course.”
“Of course,” said Reece, casually surveying the scene. “And what happens when someone runs out of clothes?”
“They lose,” Nash answered, tickling Fairchild with his breath again. “The winner gets to tie them up and do whatever they want.”
Reece chuckled deep in his chest.
“Well,” he said, “unless you’re wearing a cock ring under those drawers, I’d say you’re the loser, Nash. I just hope Fairchild goes easy on you.”
She surged to her feet and stepped away from Nash’s supine body, trying not to glance at the front of his compression shorts.
“I forfeit,” she said.
Reece cocked one brow. “You mean you want Nash to tie you up instead?”
“No!” Fairchild blurted, getting flustered. “I mean I’m not going to claim my prize, that’s all.”
“Yes you are,” Reece said.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me, Fairchild. I’m the leader here, and as long as you’re under my command, you’re going to play by the rules. Dutton?”
“Sir?”
“Help Fairchild here tie our friend Nash to the side of the cage.”
Fairchild started to argue, but she bit back her words. Technically, Reece was right. He was the leader of this mission, and she was expected to submit to his commands, same as Dutton, same as Nash.
Once they got to Calyxia, she would be expected to submit in other ways too.
Reluctantly, Fairchild reached down and took hold of Nash’s outstretched arm. Dutton grabbed the other arm, and together they hoisted the fallen Merc back onto his feet. The shit-eating grin was still plastered across his infuriatingly handsome face.
“Come on,” Fairchild growled.
She and Dutton led him over to the side of the octagon and removed his fighting gloves.
Then they used his boxing wraps to bind his wrists to the side of the combat cage.
They did the same thing with his ankles.
When they were finished, Nash was standing with his back against the chain-link, his tattooed arms outstretched on either side of him, his feet bound in place so he couldn’t struggle or kick.
The cocky Merc didn’t seem to mind one bit.
He was still smiling, and the front of his compression shorts was bulging more than ever.
“Good work,” Reece said, inspecting the knots. He turned to Fairchild and raised his brows. “Now… what are you going to do with him?”
“Leave him tied up while I go get something to eat.”
Fairchild started to head for the exit, but Reece caught her arm. She tensed, remembering the last time he had grabbed her like that in the concourse of the Guild HQ. There was something different about him now. Something that made her think twice before going for his throat.
“That’s not going to fly, Fairchild.”
“What do you mean?” she said, glancing at Nash. “I get to do whatever I want with him. That means I can do nothing at all.”
“Whatever you want,” Reece said, hitting the last word like he was racking a gun. “I don’t believe you’re being completely honest about that part.”
Fairchild said nothing. She couldn’t. Her throat had gone tight all of a sudden.
“Well, if you’re not going to tell me what you want to do with him,” Reece said calmly, “then I’ve got a proposal—I think this is a good opportunity to work on your oral skills.”
“My what?”
“Your oral skills,” Reece repeated. “You heard what Lennox told us. We’re supposed to spend our time in transit practicing—and no offense, Fairchild, but oral is one area where you’ve got some room for improvement.”
Her defiance came surging back. She wrenched her arm out of his grip.
“I didn’t hear Dutton complaining in the briefing room,” she snapped.
“That’s because he was the one in control.”
Fairchild blushed as she recalled the way the quiet Merc had used her mouth. A wave of heat filled her. She glanced at Nash, still tied to the wall of the cage.
“This sounds more like a reward for him than for me,” she said.
Reece stepped closer, and he ran his fingers down her spine, making her shiver.
“That’s because you’re thinking about it all wrong,” he whispered. “You like being in control, don’t you, Fairchild? Now’s your chance to toy with him, tease him, make him beg.”
Her pulse jumped. She could feel it throbbing at the tips of her breasts, and down between her legs.
She felt nervous, out of her depth. She had killed men, lots of them.
Just looking at Nash, she could think of a dozen ways she might end his life with her bare hands.
But when it came to pleasuring a man with her mouth…
that was one arena in which she had far less experience. Next to none, actually.
Reece swept his fingers back up her spine, and she gasped.
“Don’t worry,” he whispered. “I’ll help you.”
She looked at him, bit her lip, then looked back at Nash. Reece was right, of course. She needed to practice, needed to be in shape for the coming mission. That was what she told herself, anyway. It was easier than admitting that she wanted it.
“Where should I start?”
“You can start,” Reece said. “By kissing him.”