Chapter 28
Rook did a quick sidestep and shifted the gun from Dutton’s head to Nash’s.
The movement happened in the blink of an eye.
Fairchild knew she was going to have a tough time keeping up in her weakened state.
Her mind was still a bit hazy from the drugs, and her muscles felt slightly depleted after coming so hard.
If her plan was going to work, she would have to time it just right.
“Get up,” Rook commanded. “It’s time for round two.”
Fairchild winced slightly as she lifted herself off Dutton’s cock. Her pussy was hypersensitive after her orgasm, and the motion of that hard shaft gliding against her inner walls was almost painful.
It was followed a moment later by an even more shameful sensation, as Dutton’s load leaked out of her, running down her inner thighs, all warm and sticky and thick.
“Magnificent,” Slayn said. He had moved away from the control panel by the wall, and he was standing behind Rook again, his eyes aimed at Fairchild’s dripping sex. “Isn’t that lovely, Inga?”
Rook didn’t answer, but Fairchild noticed the faint blush that stole across her cheeks, and the subtle way her nipples stiffened beneath her shirt.
Was she… getting turned on?
Fairchild’s mind went back to the old days, when she and Rook had still been teammates together. Once, Rook had invited her to have a threesome with Bryce. Fairchild had politely declined. But that invitation meant Rook was attracted to her, or at least she had been once.
Fairchild wondered, all that jealousy Rook had been displaying in Slayn’s suite—had that been directed at Slayn… or herself?
“Hurry up!” Rook snapped.
Fairchild stepped shakily down from Dutton’s slab and moved over to the one where Nash was lying.
Of the three male Mercs, Nash was doing the worst job of concealing his rage.
Thick veins were bulging along his tattooed arms as his muscles strained against the metal bands holding him in place.
Fairchild swept her hands over the rippling muscles of his abdomen.
“Save your energy,” she told him. “It’s no use.”
And you’re going to need your energy in a minute, she thought.
Nash relaxed a little, but only a little. He stared up at Fairchild as she climbed onto the metal slab and straddled his pelvis. Like Dutton, he was manipulating his blood flow to keep his penis from becoming fully erect.
“It’s okay,” Fairchild said gently. “Let it happen.”
“No,” Nash said. “We don’t have to do this.”
“Make it hard,” Reece called from his own slab beside them. “That’s an order.”
Fairchild’s hands had already gotten Nash’s cock ninety percent hard.
At his team leader’s command, the young Merc relented and gave her the last ten percent.
His shaft felt rigid and hot against Fairchild’s fingers.
She levered it into position and lowered herself onto it.
Dutton’s semen was still dripping out of her, and it served as lubrication.
“We don’t have to do this,” Nash repeated. “You can—”
“Shut up,” Fairchild said. “And listen.”
She said the first part with her mouth. The second, she said with her pussy.
It was a trick she’d come up with a few days ago as a way to communicate silently with her teammates.
As cadets, they’d all learned the ancient dot-dash code that had been developed centuries before on Old Terra in the early days of telecommunication.
Using the inner muscles around her vagina, Fairchild could spell out messages on her guys’ cocks.
Her guys, having significantly less control over their own male anatomy, were restricted to yes-no answers. One throb meant yes. Two meant no.
It took Fairchild a few minutes to explain her plan by this method, all while she slowly rode Nash’s cock, moaning softly to keep Rook and Slayn distracted. When she was done, she asked Nash if he understood.
One throb. Yes.
The rage in his eyes had not faded, but it had transitioned into a kind of deadly eagerness that made her blood pump a little faster.
Get ready, Fairchild told him through a series of long and short squeezes. Wait for my signal.
One throb.
Good. There was just one last thing Fairchild needed to do now. She needed Rook and Slayn to be as distracted as possible. That meant putting on a show.
Slowly, Fairchild pretended to surrender to the pleasure of Nash’s hard cock moving inside her. It wasn’t hard to do. She leaned back and cupped one breast, massaging it gently while Rook and Slayn watched. She panted. She moaned. She trembled as if she were on the verge of a climax, which she was.
“Oh my God,” she murmured. “Oh my God, you feel so good.”
She was looking right at Rook when she said it. The woman’s blush deepened. Her nipples were even more prominent through the fabric of her shirt. Fairchild could smell her arousal—her pheromones, her wetness.
“I’m going to come,” Fairchild said. “Oh God, I’m going to come.”
She tossed her head back and shouted as a second wave of pleasure rippled through her body, shivering every atom of her being with sensations of pure bliss. Beneath her, Nash arched his back and groaned, body trembling, muscles flexing in a rhythmic pattern of ecstasy.
It was all for show. The young Merc was faking it.
Fairchild had to admit, Nash was a damn good actor. She probably would have bought his performance, if not for the fact that his dick was inside her. If he’d been coming for real, she would have felt it.
She slid one hand into position between her legs, pretending to toy with her clit. Then, as she slid herself off him, she gripped the shaft of his cock and aimed it right at Rook’s face.
“Now!” she shouted.