24 – Saturday Sirens #2
“It’s not fair,” Chryl whines, stepping into the room. The momentary tension crackling between him and Electra pops. “I want to go to the fantasy ball!” For emphasis, she lifts the lasso and boots she ordered for herself.
Electra smirks. “The dress code specifically says no cowgirls.”
Ha! She isn’t above untruths either. That shouldn’t make Res6 feel as justified in his own falsehoods as it does.
As if she senses the lie too, Chryl narrows her eyes at Electra, an uncanny gesture that, if he is guessing correctly, Chryl learned from the other woman. “I’ll take Prototype’s dress.”
“Maybe you can try on your cowgirl outfit and show me how nice it looks when we get back.” Managing a manupartner while trying to explore this thing happening between him and Electra is becoming increasingly difficult.
He can’t recycle her now, though. After the first twenty-four hours, he suspected there was something different about her.
It’s one of the reasons he didn’t immediately recycle her.
Chryl’s lower lip juts out in a pout. “How long will you be gone?”
“A couple of hours,” Electra says, intertwining her fingers with his, almost like they’re a real couple. He should be terrified, but he’s too elated to care.
“Fine.” Chryl’s boots thump to the floor as she wanders off toward the kitchen, giving them a chance to slip out the door.
Two hours pass in a blink. The uniquely arranged particle panes at the venue, Bubble Bar, have been programmed so the cavernous space resembles a giant tree, and each of the bubbles are amber glowing treehouses.
Despite his social status, they wait an hour and a half for one to become available.
They step in and arrange themselves on the plush cushions so they can see the main stage, where a cabaret performance is about to take place.
A server takes care of their drink order, then they're alone in the cozy space.
As the main room’s overhead lights dim, Electra leans into Res6.
The bubbles that surround them at various heights all twinkle in rhythm with the music.
The tree flickers for a moment, and the room goes dark.
Three spotlights hit the stage. As the tree reanimates, transforming into a dozen tall, straight pines that reach toward a starlit sky, each bubble fades into a twinkling background with a single bubble in the center resembling a full moon.
The bubble lowers to the stage, and a woman holding a microphone steps out.
She begins singing a hypnotic, enchanting melody that melds perfectly with the scene.
“This is incredible,” Electra whispers as more performers take the stage.
He leans forward, slipping his free hand inside the slit of Electra’s dress just like a real boyfriend would do.
Her breath catches. “Not as incredible as you.” Her thigh is warm and soft beneath his palm, and she shivers as his hand drifts higher.
They watch the first song with his fingers tracing lazy circles.
Blue, yellow, and pink stage lights dance in his periphery. By the awed expression on Electra’s face, the performance must be extraordinary, but he can’t quit staring at her. “Are you enjoying yourself?” he whispers, pleased with himself that he could offer her so much pleasure.
He’s so damn eager to offer her more. She glances to where his hand has drifted higher. “Is this okay?” he asks.
Her stare lifts to his lips. “Are you going to kiss me?”
“Do you want me to?”
There’s no uncertainty as she closes the distance between them.
Her lips are supple yet firm as they crash into his.
The kiss is nothing like the tentative exploration they shared in the Empire State Building simulation.
This one is hungry and sure. If there was any lingering doubt before, this kiss has demolished it.
He’s done denying how inextricably drawn to this human woman he is. Electra is for him.
She gasps as he nips at her lower lip and he presses closer, learning her. Savoring her. She meets his intensity, reaching up and running her nails through the short hair at the nape of his neck. The nerves along his spine prickle.
With every kiss, every swallowed breath, his desire unfurls.
She’s like an immersion chamber, drowning his senses.
His palms itch to feel more of her. He grasps a handful of her hair, pulling her head back so he can run his mouth along the smooth column of her throat.
She hums in satisfaction as goosebumps dance across her skin.
He makes his way lower, trailing kisses to the soft mounds of her breasts and slipping a strap off one shoulder until it falls low enough to expose a dusky pink nipple.
He takes the hardened peak into his mouth, licking and sucking, reveling in the way she arches into him, fingers gripping his hair.
“You’re so fucking perfect,” he confesses between kisses. She moans at the praise.
As he makes his way back to her delicious mouth, her legs part subtly.
Is she opening herself to him? He’s terrified of crossing a line and bringing this beautiful, confusing, complicated thing between them to a screeching halt.
He pulls back, searching her eyes. Nerves dance in his stomach like the moment before a lab result, but the possible boon of touching her is so much greater than a successful experiment.
She holds his stare, boldly stating her desire. “Touch me.”
Oh fuck. Her command has all his blood rushing to his cock.
He leans over her and slides his hand higher, fingers grazing silk and lace, then soft wet heat.
Her eyes flutter shut as he dips a finger inside, gathering her arousal.
He swirls it around her clit, discovering what pleases her.
Soon he finds a rhythm that has her knees quaking.
With every hitch of her breath, his cock throbs, straining against his trousers.
But this is about her. “You’re so beautiful trembling at my touch.
” He runs his lips across her pulse point.
“I need your fingers inside me.”
He obeys, slipping a finger inside, using his thumb to strum her clit. “I love touching you like this.”
Her inner walls flutter, and she cries out between gasps. “Oh God. Res6, I’m so close.”
“Come for me, Electra,” he demands, biting slightly in the spot that caused a shiver before.
He hooks his finger forward on the following thrust, and she curls into him as she tips over the edge.
Her inner walls spasm as he pumps his fingers, letting her ride out her orgasm.
Pre-cum leaks from his cock and he’s desperate to replace his fingers with it. Does she want that too?
Before he can ask, a chime sounds at the door.
“Fuck. I forgot to switch the light to Do Not Disturb.” He eyes her as he licks the taste of her off his fingers. “Mmm,” he moans, the taste lingering on his tongue. “So good.”
Her eyes go wide. Another check in the Pro column for romance novels. He gets up to remedy the problem, eager to resume their activities because he’s discovering he craves this woman in a frightening way. “Don’t you dare move. I’m not done with you yet.”
The flush beneath her stunning freckles deepens, and she glances away. He pops his head out, redirecting the server before closing and locking the door. He takes too long to figure out which switch sets the Do Not Disturb. He’s still straining in his pants when he turns back to her.
But she’s staring at the stage, her brow wrinkled in concern. She points, pulling her strap back up, and his stomach sinks. “There’s Chryl.”
“Impossible.” The heat humming through his body in time with the music turns cold and his erection deflates as he sees the cowgirl Electra is pointing at. He runs a hand over his face. “I guess I deserve this for insisting on keeping her.”
Electra hides a giggle behind her hand. “Oh God, is she twerking?”
“That thing she’s doing with her backside is called twerking?”
Electra groans. “She must have watched more music videos from my time.”
“We’d better go collect her before she causes any trouble.”
By the time they make their way down to the ground level, Chryl is in the middle of the stage, swinging the lasso overhead. He takes Electra’s hand, pushing through the crowd with an “Excuse me.”
He creates such a disturbance in the throng of people, it draws Chryl’s attention. It’s too late when he notices devices pointing between him and the manupartner on the stage. Chryl’s hand—not the one swinging the lasso—shoots up, waving maniacally.
“Is she glitching? On stage? In the center of a crowded ball in the middle of MSP?” Electra asks over the music.
“I’m afraid it’s much worse,” he says, already suspecting the cause of Chryl’s uniqueness. But this isn’t the time to explain his suspicions to Electra.
“Daddy!” she shrieks. “Found you! I’ve been looking everywhere.”
“I’m here. Why don’t you come down?” he shouts, earning an encouraging squeeze from Electra.
“Two hours passed, and I feared the worst. I’ve looked in every closet in this entire building! I thought they’d taken you again—”
“Chryl, please come down,” he yells, more firmly this time. They were able to keep the robbery out of the news. The last thing he needs is for Chryl to announce it while a dozen bystanders have their cameras on them.
“No way, José! Daddy comes to Chryl this time.” Before he realizes what’s happening, the lasso flies.
The crowd seems to have guessed what was happening, because there is a straight path to him and Electra with enough space for the rope to loop around them.
Chryl tugs and it cinches tight, causing an equally shocked Electra to squeak.
The crowd breaks out in uproarious applause.
“Oh damn, it caught her too,” Chryl says. “Oh, well.” She yanks the rope toward her, and they have no choice but to follow.