Chapter 30 #2
The word echoed in Carmen’s skull, resonant and terrifying. It wasn’t just about the connector. It was a key turning in a lock deep inside her.
“I …” she began.
“Admit it!” Mila snapped.
The sudden shout startled Carmen. She should have been scared, should have told Mila to get the hell off her.
Instead, her nipples hardened to diamonds beneath her dirty tank top. The sweet space between her legs flooded. And, God, the smell of those pheromones filled her mind, demanded the truth.
“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, I admit it.”
All the coiled tension, the gnawing fear for Zed, the crushing weight of command, the weeks of denying the pull of this alien woman – it surged through Carmen in a white-hot wave. A choked sob escaped her, raw and unexpected. Her shoulders slumped, the rigid posture of the captain dissolving.
“Good girl,” Mila said.
Her hand shifted. She released Carmen’s shoulder and slid it softly, deliciously up the side of her neck. Her touch was firm, possessive, grounding in the chaos.
“I want it, too,” Mila purred. “I want you underneath me. I want you in my power.”
She dragged her fingers across Carmen’s cheek, let Carmen feel her claws, until her index finger came to rest under her trembling, lower lip.
“I want to give you what you need,” she murmured, her voice a low thrum that resonated in Carmen’s bones. Her thumb stroked the pulse point hammering wildly beneath Carmen’s skin. “You’re so strong, so accomplished. I admire you so much, Carmen Díaz. I’ve never met anyone like you.
“But there’s a hole inside you. And you keep it open, empty. Deliberately. I want to fill it, Carmen. I want to be the thing you’re missing, the thing you so desperately need.
“Tell me to do it. Tell me to take you. Surrender to me.”
Unable to resist, she met Mila’s intense gaze. The green was deep, fathomless, promising oblivion. Promising peace. The fear, the responsibility, the desperate need to be the unwavering captain – it could all dissolve under the heat of Mila’s touch and the unbearable sweetness of her scent.
“I …” she gasped, her body straining toward Mila’s. “… can’t.”
For a moment, they stood frozen, staring into each other’s eyes, desire a thick blanket wrapped around them. Then Mila stroked her cheek.
“You’re right,” she said. “You don’t know how. You need to be shown.”
Mila knotted her fingers in Carmen’s hair and yanked her head back. Carmen barely had a moment to gasp before Mila’s lips were on her neck, her tongue licking, her teeth biting.
And Carmen submitted. It wasn’t like the first kiss in the access tube. Not hesitant, not shocked. It was desperate, hungry.
Mila’s free hand slid up Carmen’s back, under her grease-stained tank top, digging into the muscles with possessive strength. The feel of those cool, smooth claws against her bare skin sent shivers of pure, electric pleasure down Carmen’s spine.
Carmen melted into the embrace, a moan torn from her throat. Her hands flew to the base of Mila’s skull, pulling her closer, offering her throat as if Mila were a predator who would devour her.
But Carmen was the one with the hunger.
Mila yanked Carmen’s head away, drawing the tiniest drop of blood with a tooth. She turned Carmen’s head savagely, forced her to meet her stare.
“You’re not in charge here, Little Girl,” she snarled. “You can fight me if you want, but understand this: you’re mine. I’ll decide what you get, what you need.”
And then Mila’s mouth was on hers, tongue seeking, exploring, claiming Carmen’s mouth with a confident dominance that made Carmen’s knees weak.
Her claws traced fiery paths up Carmen’s spine, then slid down again, over the curve of her hips, gripping possessively.
The thick fabric of Carmen’s pants felt like nothing against the heat of Mila’s touch.
Mila’s lips left hers, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses along her jaw, down the sensitive column of her throat.
Her teeth scraped, her tongue soothed, marking Carmen’s skin.
Carmen’s head fell back, a whimper escaping her.
Her fingers dug into the flesh beneath Mila’s fur, feeling the solid muscle underneath, the alien strength.
One of Mila’s hands slid to the hem of Carmen’s tank top, claws hooking under the fabric.
“This comes off,” she commanded. “Now.”
Carmen lifted her arms obediently, and Mila stripped the grease-stained top over her head in one swift motion, tossing it aside.
The cool air of Engineering hit Carmen’s overheated skin, raising goosebumps across her soft-brown breasts, her belly. She stood there in her sports bra and pants, exposed, vulnerable.
Mila’s gaze raked over her, possessive and hungry.
“Beautiful,” she murmured.
Her hands came up to cup Carmen’s breasts through the thin fabric, thumbs brushing over hardened nipples. Carmen gasped, arching into the touch.
“So responsive,” Mila purred. She pulled the sports bra up, freeing Carmen’s breasts, and took a nipple into her mouth.
The sensation was overwhelming – hot, wet, the slight scrape of teeth, the rasp of Mila’s tongue.
Carmen cried out, her hands flying to Mila’s head, holding her there.
Mila sucked hard, then bit down gently, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain straight to Carmen’s core.
She moved to the other breast, lavishing the same attention, while her hands roamed Carmen’s body – possessive, claiming, exploring every curve.
“Mila,” Carmen moaned.
It was a plea. A surrender. An affirmation. A sound she’d never made before – raw, needy, completely submissive.
Mila lifted her head, her eyes blazing with desire, pupils blown wide with predatory intent.
“Tell me,” she commanded, her voice a husky rasp. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you surrender. Tell me you need me to take you.”
The words were a gauntlet thrown. A demand for total capitulation. Carmen stared into those demanding, green irises, panting, her body screaming. The need was too great. The release too tantalizing. The scent, the heat, the sheer rightness of Mila’s dominance overwhelmed her.
“Yes,” Carmen gasped. “God, yes. Take it. Take me. Please.”
The ‘please’ wasn’t polite. It was a ragged sob of pure need. Mila’s answering smile was fierce, triumphant.
“Good girl,” she said.
The praise, the condescension, sent another jolt of electric submission through Carmen.
Mila’s hands moved to Carmen’s pants, fingers deftly unfastening the clasp.
The sound of the zipper was obscenely loud in the confined space.
Mila hooked her thumbs in the waistband and slowly—torturously slowly—dragged both pants and underwear down over Carmen’s hips, letting them pool at her ankles.
Carmen stood there, naked except for her bunched-up sports bra and her boots, exposed in the harsh work-lights of Engineering. Mila’s gaze traveled down Carmen’s body
“Look at you,” Mila murmured. “So fucking perfect. And so very wet.” Her hand slid between Carmen’s thighs, fingers stroking through slick folds. Carmen gasped, her hips bucking into the touch. “All this for me?”
“Yes,” Carmen whimpered. “Yes, for you.”
Mila’s fingers explored with deliberate leisure – stroking, circling, teasing. She found Carmen’s clit, rubbing slow circles that made her legs tremble. Then her fingers moved lower, circling the entrance but not penetrating, just applying delicious, torturous pressure.
“Please,” Carmen begged, her voice breaking. “Please, Mila….”
“Please what?” Mila’s voice was dark honey, commanding. “Tell me exactly what you need, Carmen. Use your words.”
“Touch me,” Carmen gasped. “Fuck me. Please, I need … I need you inside me.”
Mila’s smile was wicked.
“Such a desperate little thing.” One finger pressed inside, just barely, then withdrew. Carmen whimpered her frustrated need. “So used to being in control. So used to getting what you want.” Another shallow thrust, another withdrawal. “But not anymore.”
“Mila, please!”
“No.” Mila’s free hand came up, gripping Carmen’s jaw, forcing her to meet those blazing green eyes. “You don’t get to rush this. You don’t get to demand. You surrender. Completely. You take what I give you, when I give it to you. Understand?”
Carmen’s breath came in ragged pants. Every nerve in her body was screaming for more, for release, but Mila held all the power. And God help her, Carmen wanted it that way.
“Yes,” she whispered. “I understand.”
“Good.” Mila released her jaw, her hand sliding back down Carmen’s body. “Now turn around. Hands on the bulkhead.”
Carmen obeyed, turning to face the metal wall, placing her palms flat against the cool surface. Her heart hammered. Behind her, she heard Mila’s approving hum.
“Spread your legs,” Mila commanded. “Wider.”
Carmen shifted her stance, spreading her thighs, feeling exposed, vulnerable. Her pants were still trapped around her ankles. She had to push her ass out, arch her back.
Present like a cat.
Mila’s hands slid over Carmen’s thick cheeks, squeezing, kneading. Then one hand slid between her legs from behind, cupping her sex. Carmen moaned, pressing further back into the touch.
Mila’s fingers stroked through her folds again, gathering wetness, spreading it.
Then finally, one finger pushed inside. Carmen cried out, her head falling forward, her forehead pressing against the cold metal.
Even just one finger felt like relief, like finally being given what she’d been begging for.
“Damn, you’re tight,” Mila growled. Her finger moved, slow and deep, curling to find that spot inside that made Carmen see stars. “And so fucking wet. Listen to yourself.”
The obscene sounds of Mila’s finger moving in Carmen’s slick heat filled the space between them. Carmen’s face burned with shame and arousal. She’d never been so exposed, so thoroughly claimed.
Mila’s free hand came up, sliding up Carmen’s spine to tangle in her hair. She pulled, arching Carmen’s back further, forcing her to lift her head.