Chapter 9 #2
“Letitia, I came here to be alone, so I could think. I don’t know what to do. And you coming to plead your case again does not help.”
“Carmen, I—”
“No, don’t make excuses or another argument. I don’t have the brain space for one more idea! I’m glad you can sit there in your moral certainty and see only one solution, but I can’t! I’m the fucking captain! I have to think about saving all our skins. I don’t get the luxury of ethical certainty.
“Maybe we should try to take her home, see if her family will give us a reward. Maybe I should see if we can negotiate with Maltese or Velasco. Hell, maybe we should hand her over to the COPS. Turn state’s evidence. We might get leniency that way.”
Letitia’s eyes flashed.
“You wouldn’t!”
“Wouldn’t I?” Carmen challenged, pushing off the desk, forcing herself into Letitia’s space.
The need to provoke, to deflect the weight pressing down, was overwhelming.
“If it meant keeping Sark out of a labor camp? Keeping Zed from being disassembled for parts? Keeping you safe? What wouldn’t I do, Letitia? ”
Letitia didn’t flinch. She held Carmen’s gaze, her dark eyes searching. Carmen couldn’t stand it.
“Stop looking at me like I’m the villain for even considering saving our skins!” she shouted.
For a moment, Letitia looked hurt, betrayed. The same expression she wore after Carmen told her they weren’t going to be a couple passed across her features like a shroud. Then her face hardened.
“I look at you,” Letitia said softly, stepping closer, “like a woman drowning. And I’m throwing you a line you keep slapping away.” Her hand did touch Carmen’s arm then, fingers warm and firm on her bare skin. “You need to come up for air, Carmen. Just for a minute.”
Carmen wanted to argue, but her counter died in her throat.
Letitia wasn’t wrong. The coiled spring inside her was vibrating, screaming for release.
The impossible decisions, the crushing responsibility, the fucking sweet smell clouding her senses – it was all too much.
Sex was a valve. A way to quiet the storm, even if only for a little while.
Before Carmen could agree, before she could set the terms, Letitia’s hand slid around the back of her neck. Fingers curled firm against her nape, and Carmen found herself being pulled forward, Letitia’s mouth closing over hers.
Carmen’s eyes widened. Her hands came up – to push away, to establish distance – but Letitia’s tongue snaked past her lips, and the sweet, cloying scent hanging in the quarters hit the back of Carmen’s throat like smoke.
Heat flooded through her, drowning the protest before it could form.
Her fingers flexed against Letitia’s shoulders, gripping instead of pushing.
Letitia’s other hand found Carmen’s hip, dragging her closer until their bodies pressed together.
Carmen felt the heat radiating through Letitia’s thin tank top, the solid press of her breasts, the hard muscle of her thighs.
The kiss deepened – all tongue and teeth and shared breath.
Carmen’s grip on Letitia’s shoulders tightened.
When Letitia finally broke away, they were both breathing hard. Carmen’s head spun, her thoughts scattered.
“I thought we weren’t doing this anymore,” Carmen managed, her voice rough.
Letitia’s lips curved. Her eyes invited Carmen into her embrace. Her hands found the hem of Carmen’s shirt, fingers grazing bare skin beneath.
“You think clearer after you’ve been laid,” she purred. She pulled the shirt up and over Carmen’s head in one smooth motion, tossing it aside. “Just let me help you.”
Carmen stood there in her bra and pants, skin prickling in the cool air.
Letitia’s gaze raked down her body, over the soft, brown curves of her breasts swelling above the plain fabric, the undulation of her belly, her hips.
That look made Carmen’s breath catch, made heat pool low and urgent between her thighs.
Letitia’s hands moved to Carmen’s bra, unclasping it with practiced ease. The fabric fell away, and Letitia’s palms came up to cup Carmen’s breasts, thumbs brushing over her nipples. Carmen gasped, the sensation arcing straight to her core.
“Fuck,” Letitia breathed. “I love touching you.”
Her mouth descended, lips closing around one nipple, sucking hard.
Carmen’s hands flew to Letitia’s head, fingers tangling in her braids—whether to hold her there or push her away, she couldn’t decide.
Letitia’s tongue circled, flicked, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh until Carmen’s knees weakened.
Letitia’s hands dropped to Carmen’s pants, fingers fumbling with the fastening, popping it open. She shoved the fabric down over Carmen’s hips along with her underwear, both falling to pool at Carmen’s ankles.
Letitia pulled back, her dark-brown eyes drinking in every inch of exposed skin.
“Goddamn,” she whispered.
Then her hand slid between Carmen’s thighs. Carmen’s breath hitched as Letitia’s fingers found slick heat without hesitation. Her hips jerked forward involuntarily, a gasp escaping her throat.
“Jesus-fuck,” Letitia murmured, her fingers stroking through Carmen’s folds, exploring, spreading the wetness. “You’re soaked.”
Holy shit, she was. When did that happen?
That scent in the air – musky, thick – filled Carmen’s lungs with every ragged breath. Her skin felt too tight, every nerve ending firing. Letitia’s thumb found her clit, circling with maddening lightness that made Carmen’s vision blur.
“Letitia!” The name came out broken, needy.
“I’ve got you,” Letitia murmured. Her free hand pressed against the small of Carmen’s back, supporting her weight as she backed her toward the bunk. “Just let go.”
Carmen’s legs hit the edge of the mattress. Letitia guided her down, following her. She lifted Carmen’s ankles, yanked the boots off her feet, and pulled the pants and underwear away, freeing her lower body.
Then Letitia fell on her like a predator. Her mouth found Carmen’s neck, teeth nipping, tongue soothing, while her fingers kept moving between Carmen’s thighs – stroking, teasing, never quite giving enough pressure.
Carmen rolled her hips upward, chasing Letitia’s hand. Her breath came fast and shallow, little sounds escaping her throat she couldn’t control.
Wrong. This was wrong. Carmen should be directing this, but …
Letitia’s fingers slid lower, circling her entrance. She gathered wetness, then pushed inside – one finger, slow and steady.
Carmen’s cry echoed off the metal walls. Her back arched, lifting off the mattress. One finger became two, stretching her, filling her. Letitia’s thumb found her clit again, pressing firm circles while her fingers curled upward, searching.
When they found that spot deep inside, Carmen’s whole body jolted.
“Fuck!”
Letitia’s mouth curved against Carmen’s collarbone.
“There it is,” she whispered.
She stroked again, deliberate, and Carmen saw stars.
The thrust of Letitia’s fingers. The press of her thumb. The scrape of teeth on Carmen’s breast. Every sensation layered, building, carrying Carmen higher on a wave she couldn’t control. Her fingers dug into the mattress, into Letitia’s shoulder, seeking purchase, finding none.
Letitia’s pace was steady, relentless. She drove her fingers deeper with each thrust, her thumb maintaining constant pressure on Carmen’s clit.
The wet sounds of it filled the small quarters – obscene, undeniable.
Carmen’s thighs fell open wider, giving Letitia better access, and Letitia took it, shoving those long fingers in deeper – all the way to the knuckle.
“Oh, god!” Carmen cried.
Her head thrashed on the thin pillow. The penetration was intense, almost too much, walking the knife-edge between pleasure and pain. But then Letitia’s fingers curled again, hitting that spot, and pleasure won.
“Don’t stop. Fuck, don’t stop!”
But no sooner had she issued the command than she sent her hand rocketing down, catching Letitia’s wrist mid-thrust.
“Wait.” The word came out rough, breathless. Carmen shifted her hips, adjusting the angle. “Slower. Curl your fingers more. There.”
Letitia’s rhythm changed immediately, following Carmen’s direction. Carmen tightened her grip, controlling the pace now. “Yes. Right there. Keep that exact pressure.”
The tension in Carmen’s chest loosened. Her breathing steadied. This – directing, demanding, orchestrating – this she understood. The brief loss of control evaporated, replaced by familiar territory.
“Faster now,” Carmen commanded. “And use your mouth. Get down there.”
Letitia shifted without hesitation, sliding down Carmen’s body.
Her lips replaced her thumb, hot and wet, tongue flattening against Carmen’s clit.
Carmen shoved her hand into Letitia’s braids, fisting them, holding her in place.
She guided Letitia’s head, controlling the angle, the pressure, exactly how she needed it.
“Don’t stop.” Carmen’s hips lifted off the mattress, grinding against Letitia’s face. “Just like that. Exactly like that!”
Letitia’s fingers kept thrusting, stretching Carmen wide. Her tongue worked Carmen’s clit with practiced precision. Circling, flicking, sucking. She knew Carmen’s body, knew what made her gasp, what made her thighs tremble.
And Carmen directed her through it all, orchestrating every movement.
“More pressure with your tongue,” Carmen gasped. “Fuck, yes, like that.”
The tension coiled tighter in her belly. Carmen chased it with ruthless focus, her hand tightening in Letitia’s braids, her hips rolling in a rhythm she controlled. Every stroke of Letitia’s tongue, every curl of her fingers, responded to Carmen’s demands.
“I’m close,” Carmen panted. “Don’t you dare change anything. Keep exactly – Fuck! – exactly like that.”
Letitia obeyed perfectly, maintaining the same pressure, the same rhythm, the same angle. Her free hand gripped Carmen’s hip, holding her steady as Carmen’s movements became more erratic, more desperate.
The orgasm built like a supernova, that white-hot point of tension coiling impossibly tight. Carmen’s thighs began to shake, her breath coming in sharp gasps.
“Right there. Fuck, right there! Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t—”
The climax ripped through her. Carmen cried out, loud and raw, her back arching off the mattress.
Her thighs clamped around Letitia’s head, trapping her there as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over her.
Letitia held steady, her fingers still buried deep, her tongue maintaining pressure on Carmen’s clit, drawing out every last pulse until Carmen’s body went limp, her grip on Letitia’s braids loosening.
The ship’s engines rumbled through the deck plating.
Carmen’s ragged breathing slowly steadied.
Letitia withdrew her fingers carefully, pressing a final kiss to Carmen’s inner thigh before climbing back up to lie beside her on the narrow bunk.
Her face was flushed, lips swollen and glistening, her chin wet with Carmen’s arousal.
Something in her eyes – satisfaction, resignation, both – made Carmen look away.
She stared at the stained acoustic tiles overhead. The frantic panic was gone, burned away. Her thoughts moved faster now, sharper. The impossible decision about Mila clicked into place like a circuit closing. The certainty settled in her chest, heavy and absolute.
Carmen sat up, reaching for her pants. Letitia threw her a confused look.
“All right, fine,” Carmen said. “You win.”