Chapter Eighteen
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
ANGELA AND LUTHER made it halfway down the hallway before they stopped and started kissing. She kissed him like she was going to devour him, like she was frantic for it, like she couldn’t stop.
Then, she pushed him away, swearing, her throat tight.
He came after her, taking her by the arm, pulling her back into his arms. “Hey,” he said, “we both want it.”
“No, we don’t,” she said.
“Fine,” he said, “but you’ll feel better afterwards.”
“After I have my body full of your eggs, you mean?”
“Maybe.”
She got out the gun.
He held up both of his hands in surrender. “Sorry. Sorry, I don’t know…”
“I’m going outside,” she said. “You stay here.”
“This isn’t even like me,” he muttered, his voice gravelly.
She backed out, keeping the gun trained on him the entire time. Outside the lab, she headed back down to her cabin. But it was open, and Harris and Lee were in there. They’d gotten into her liquor. They looked like the other men, gills and scales and black, glittering eyes.
They lifted up their noses when she came in the door and they started for her.
They weren’t wearing clothes anymore, so she watched their cocks harden, their stingers lengthen.
Then she shot them both.
In the head.
Afterwards, she kicked both of their lifeless bodies. “Fuck,” she muttered. “Fuck, now I’ve ruined my damned cabin with these bodies.”
She went outside.
Luther was out there.
She put her gun away. “Help me get these bodies out of here and I’ll let you put the tip in me.”
He snorted. “What?”
She put a finger in his face. “No eggs, mister, got it? You can put it in and that’s all.”
He swallowed visibly. “Yeah, sure, got it.”
“And you have to haul these bodies out of here,” she said.
“Moving dead bodies,” he said. “Totally stimulating foreplay.”
She rolled her eyes. “I’ll help, okay? I’ll get the feet. You get under their arms.”
It took longer to move the bodies than she thought it would. After it was over, they were tired and sweaty and they both collapsed inside her cabin on the couch in her living room.
They just sat there, next to each other, not saying anything, and she tried not to think about how great he smelled when he was sweaty.
“I might have beer,” she said finally, getting up to look in her fridge. But no, it had been cleaned out, by the other guards undoubtedly. She shut the fridge and collapsed into the wall. She had just killed two people. She’d been protecting herself, sure, and they’d raped Nancy to death, and they were morally bankrupt jerks, but…
“Hey,” Luther was there, touching her shoulder.
Tears were leaking out of her eyes. “Everything is bad, Luther.”
“Oh, no doubt,” he said, pulling her into his arms. “Very, very fucking bad.”
She sobbed into him, and he was huge and warm and so, so firm, and he cradled her against his chest, and she was very confused.
“We’re not going to do anything,” he said.
“No, I said—”
“You’re crying, Angela. I’m not turned on by women in tears.”
She sniffled, half-laughing, thinking that this was not the universal constant he seemed to think it was. People were turned on by that, people who weren’t even bad people. Sexual arousal was weird.
Case in point, this.
“I mean it,” he said.
She pulled away and looked up at him, nodding.
He used his webbed fingers to brush away her tears, and she felt weak-kneed and a little smitten, looking up at him like this. She let him pull her back to the couch, and he tucked her into his chest, half on his lap, and she snuggled into him, and that was when she realized he was crying, too.
That made her cry harder.
They sobbed together for a while, and then, after a time, it passed, like a storm that had blown through them both.
They were still close. She looked up at him.
He looked at her, sighing. One of his thick, webbed fingers traced the outline of her cheekbone.
She adjusted herself on his lap, straddling him, and then they were kissing.
Tentative, soft kisses, just for comfort, she told herself. Just gentle kisses because of the crying and the badness.
He got hard and she felt it. She felt the stinger, too, but he didn’t say anything about it, and she didn’t either. They just kept kissing—touching each other’s faces and shoulders and arms.
And then she was rubbing her breasts into his chest and it felt good, and maybe she was grinding on his erection a little bit, and his hips were moving back a little, and… and…
She got up from his lap.
He rubbed his jaw. “Getting carried away, aren’t we?”
“Shh.” She started taking off her clothes.
His lips parted. His black, glossy eyes went half-lidded. He just watched.
She took off everything and undid his pants, getting him out.
He pulled his shirt over his head.
She climbed back into his lap, and they worked together to figure it out. It was long and thin and strange, but it went in easily, and something inside her—what was that?—grabbed him and pulled him up inside, right up inside, all the way inside.
They put his cock inside her too, and she straddled him and bounced gently on his thick, huge cock and that long, long stiff stinger which was all snugly stuck up inside her.
It was fucking great, better than sex usually was. She felt so full, so completely full. He was nudged in there, taking up all the space inside her, and she loved it.
He toyed with her nipples, looking perfectly satisfied with himself, as if he’d somehow managed to engineer this. Well, hell, maybe he had. Maybe he’d planned it.
She didn’t care. It felt too good for her to care how it had happened. She was just glad it had.
“You look real nice on my cock, Angela,” he breathed. “Just saying.”
“Don’t gloat,” she panted. She was working him in and out of herself, and he felt particularly fucking amazing. She thought she was going to come soon if he’d just shut his damned mouth.
“This is, uh, more than the tip.” His voice was like the night sky.
“Fuck you, Luther,” she said.
“Take one of my eggs,” he urged.
“Obviously,” she said, breathless.
“Obviously?”
“I want it, you idiot.”
“See, I knew you did,” he gasped, clutching her hips, holding her still, starting to move himself in and out of her.
“If you don’t shut your damned mouth, I’m not going to take your eggs, you jackass,” she said, but her voice was strained with pleasure. She was totally going to come.
“Eggs, plural? Can you take more than one?” He was eager, his voice strained as well.
“I don’t… no,” she panted. “No, just one.”
“Mmm, yeah, fuck yeah, it’s happening, baby,” he said.
Oh, shit, she felt it. She could feel the egg moving through his stinger, through the inner part of her that was gripping him. It felt positively amazing. She threw back her head.
He kissed her throat. “That’s right, that’s right, you like it, don’t you?”
“Luther, fuck you,” she said again.
“Here it is, baby, here it is,” he grunted, and then he let out some kind of noise, which sounded pained in some way, and she felt it emerging into her, the egg.
Her entire pelvis twitched and she felt as if she was on fire, erupting in showers of sparks inside her body, one orgasm multiplying into more and more and more.
“Take another one, baby,” he whispered in her ear. “You can take another one.”
“Yes,” she sobbed. “Oh, fuck yes, another one, Luther, please.”
“Of course, baby, if that’s what you want.”
“I do,” she panted. “God, I do.”
That second egg felt sublime. She came again when she felt it released into her, another intense orgasm that made her feel like she was seeing stars.
“More,” she said, kissing him. “More, Luther.”
He ran his hands up and down her spine. “We shouldn’t, though?”
“We should . I want it. You want it, right?”
“Oh, more than anything, yes, baby. I could lay eggs inside you all night. But I don’t want… we need to be careful.”
“Just one more,” she said.
“One more,” he agreed. “Only one.”
But she took four more, and she couldn’t remember who’d urged who by the end of it. Six eggs, stretching out her belly, then, when he finally went soft and tired and pulled out of her body.
They went to the bed in her cabin and lay down together, her back to his front. He spooned her and cupped one huge webbed hand over the eggs in her and whispered roughly in her ear that he’d take care of her, he swore he would, that it would be okay, that she shouldn’t worry. “You’re mine, now, and I’m yours, Angela. It’s here, me inside you, and I’m not going anywhere.”
And she was well-fucked and well-pleasured and he felt good all wrapped around her, so she let him soothe her, and she let herself be lulled off to sleep in his arms.