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Authors: Jenna McCormick

Tags: #Romance, #Science Fiction, #Adult

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BOOK: No Limits
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The last button came undone, and he moved with graceful ease, shrugging it off, tossing it on top of his jacket. His health guard snapped to life, emitting a soft blue glow that was reflected in the windows. In the distance, a noise ordinance horn blatted out a warning, popping her fantasy bubble with the sharp pinprick of reality.
“Uh, we should probably move back to my bedroom.” The last thing she needed was a rap on the window from the neighborhood decency patrol telling her to shut her broken blinds.
“If that is your desire.” Franco toed off his shoes, then picked up the candle and his bag. Gen started down the hallway but stopped and turned to face him. “What about you?”
He blinked at her. “What do you mean?”
She waved her hands in small helpless circles. “Well, how about what you desire? I think sex is better when there is mutual satisfaction.”
A smile broke out across his face. “You are an unusual woman, Genevieve. I assure you, before the night is over, I will have found my own slice of bliss.” His words made a sensual promise and she shivered.
Not bothering to turn the light on in her room, lest he see the piles of discarded lingerie and other feminine paraphernalia, she took the candle from his hands and set it down on her nightstand. Something about it mesmerized her, the way the flame danced as though performing just for her, and she forgot about Franco, her nervousness, and the rest of the universe, totally lost in the moment.
Warm hands cupped her breasts from behind, and she sighed, allowing her head to fall back onto his shoulder as he kneaded her aching flesh. Wet slickness pooled between her thighs while he murmured soothing words of praise and soft encouragements. The candle seemed to wink at her, conveying a message that this was exactly where she was supposed to be, and everything would be okay.
His clever fingers unknotted the drawstring on her pajama bottoms with ease, and before her mind could form a protest, he slipped the fabric over her hips until it pooled around her feet.
Pushing gently but insistently on her back, he urged her up onto the bed until she was poised on all fours. “Stay exactly like that.” The order held the ring of command, and she shivered again, growing even wetter in anticipation. Her channel ached, greedy for his penetration. The only thought in her head was that it had been too long, and she needed the invasion
now
.
The rustling of fabric and her ragged breaths were the only sounds. She was a light sleeper and had searched for an apartment with an utterly soundproof bedroom to help her rest peacefully at night. Now, the quiet created an isolated little cocoon where anything was possible, where she could be free and greedy in her carnal needs. “What are you doing?”
He tapped her lightly on the ass. “I didn’t say you could talk.”
Did she like his domineering attitude? Not so much, but it did take the pressure off of her to do anything but follow his lead. “Sorry.”
“I’m lubing up. Wetter is better, don’t you think?” He traced a finger down the crease of her ass, circling the small opening there for an agonizing moment before continuing down to the folds of her sex. “Are you wet yet, Gen?”
She opened her mouth to answer, but paused when she recalled his reaction to speaking out of turn. Instead she decided to go with a nonverbal reply and rocked her hips back to increase the pressure on her aching clit. The light brush of his fingertips over the swollen bud sent sparks shimmering throughout her body. A groan escaped as he stroked her harder, deeper, almost exactly as she needed.
“Do you want my cock inside you? Or maybe my tongue. Should I lick you until you come all over my face?”
The image his words built up in her mind pushed her right to the edge, where she teetered, waiting for him to do something,
anything
. “Please,” she gasped as he captured her clit between two fingers and tugged lightly.
“Please what?” His stroking hand disappeared, and she glanced over her shoulder to see him fondling his thick cock. Again, her inner muscles spasmed, but without direct stimulation, the orgasm slipped away. He bent over her, his dark hair unbound and falling forward as he whispered in her ear, “Tell me what you want, Gen.”
She panted, poised on the cliff and more than ready. “Make me come.”
Strong hands gripped her hips, and he slid his well-lubed cock inside her. Gen groaned at the contact and bucked back to meet him, taking him even more deeply inside of her. His thickness filled her, but she wanted more, wanted him to take her harder. Faster. Now.
His hold on her pelvis tightened, forbidding her frantic movements. “Easy. I’ll get you there. Trust me.” His agonizingly slow withdrawal made her sigh, and he stopped while the blunt head was still barely inside her. Another smooth, hard thrust and she cried out, wanting more.
“You are so fucking hot,” he rasped on his second retreat. His hand snaked over her hip and down until he could tease her throbbing clit with calloused fingertips. “I want to take you hard.”
His words made her clench up, and she groaned a breathless acquiescence. “Do it.” Tears of frustration had gathered behind her closed eyelids. She needed more, so much more than this light teasing.
“Push back against the wall,” he commanded, urging her torso lower so he could angle his cock inside her. “And hold on.”
Spreading her legs wider to make room for his hips, he slammed his thick shaft into her. This time he didn’t hold back.
He touched all the right spots—his fingers worked her clit while the head of his shaft angled against her G-spot. Technically speaking, it was a perfect performance, ten out of ten.
But she couldn’t come.
“Are you close?” Franco panted as he surged into her again. “Do you want me to go down on you?”
Their germ shields snapped and sizzled at the onslaught of contact. The sex was amazing; he filled her completely, was almost
too
big. He’d made her wet, made her ache. Was it too much to fracking ask for him to finish the deed?
Instead, she fell back on the habits of her sexual lifetime. She faked orgasm. Her cry of supposed ecstasy sounded hollow and phony to her own ears, but she timed the clenching of her inner muscles perfectly. A teeny part of her hoped he’d see through her ruse and not let her get away with it.
“Oh, hell yeah!” His shout echoed off the walls as he thrust against her again, almost to the point of pain. His sharp, stabbing shoves heralded his own orgasm, and he withdrew while their shields gobbled up the discarded genetic material.
She bit her lip and waited while he caught his breath, unsure of what to say and ashamed at herself for wimping out. Franco had been paid to come here and please her. Was it wrong to demand that he give her body her friend’s credits’ worth?
Could it
sound
any more pathetic?
Luckily, Franco pulled her from that morose train of thought before the pity party turned ugly. “Damn, you are one hot commodity.”
Fake it until you make it, babe.
“Um, thank you?”
He chuckled and stroked his hand over her naked back. She wanted to preen under the contact. Gen loved being touched, could never seem to get enough of it. His hand glided along her spine in slow, sweeping motions. “So, are we good?”
She nodded. “Help yourself to the sonic shower.”
He leaned down, nuzzled her hair. “You really are sweet, you know that?”
Gen listened as he gathered his clothes and padded into the hall, and heard the deep thrumming as the sonic shower turned on.
She couldn’t wait anymore. Sucking on her index and middle finger, she wet them good before manipulating her aching clit.
Yessss
...
The candle still flickered from the nightstand. She let herself go, timing the thrust of her fingers into her snug sheath to its sensual movements. Soon she needed both hands—one to work her throbbing bud and the other to pump two fingers inside her channel, even as her hips rose to increase the contact. And still she wished for more. The feel of male hands working her body like an instrument designed for pleasure, touching her, licking her, fucking her. It was always like this, her body needing—no,
demanding
—more, no matter how much it received. Was there no limit to her carnal greed?
The orgasm crashed over her and she sighed in relief. Pulling a blanket up to her neck, she curled into a ball on her side, facing away from the door. Her mind drifted, not thinking of anything in particular. She heard the shower go off. Exhaustion swept over her like a thick fog, muddying her senses. Just before she fell asleep, she swore she felt hands running through her hair and an unfamiliar voice whispering words of praise in her ear.
2
A
s the sensual woman relaxed into sleep, Rhys could no longer maintain his corporeal form. He fought the candle’s pull as long as he could, but without the infusion of her raw emotions, he didn’t have enough strength to manifest a body. He came apart, atom by atom, his empathic essence pulled like metal shavings to a magnet. Only great power could free an empath from one of Illustra’s specially designed prisons. Power he had almost given up hope of finding.
Until her.
For no logical reason, he had almost refused to harvest her emotions the way he had done for countless others. Even though he was starved for the contact, it had seemed wrong to toy with something so pure and bright. He had, though, tamping down her fear and anxiety and seeking out her buried lusts to help her accept what Franco offered.
But he couldn’t bring himself to force climax on her.
Her performance had been tactful, the way she’d dismissed the man so she could take matters into her own hands. Her passion was crimson and untarnished, the most delicious emotion he’d ever encountered, and as she’d reached her satisfaction, he’d broken free. However, it had taken too long for his body to form, and he’d heard Franco moving in the other room. Short on time, he’d bent down and just breathed her in. The magnificent fragrance of woman, heady and oh so arousing.
The dark spill of her hair looked so soft and inviting, and he’d touched it before he’d been aware of the burning compulsion. The silky tangles slid through his fingers, and she murmured something incomprehensible, her eyes still closed. She would help him; he knew it. She needed the sexual satisfaction he longed to give her.
The door down the hall opened just as Rhys planted the seed in her mind, a niggling itch that would grow until she sought him out to scratch it. He settled down to wait.
 
Franco was gone by the time Gen awoke. No light penetrated the room, which meant he’d taken that awesome candle with him. Too bad. She wondered how many organs she’d have to hock to buy one of those. Such a simple prop, but it had set the tone she so desperately needed last night. Bathed in its flickering illumination, she’d felt sensual, sexually confident for the first time in her life.
“Yeah, that’s what you should be worrying about,” she muttered, and flung the covers back. Between finding a job and searching for her runaway sister, her day was booked solid. Sexual gratification could wait.
Maybe until my next life.
Padding down the hall, she snorted in disgust when she saw that Franco had left the toilet seat up. Just in case she’d thought it might have all been a dream. She wondered if he had a wife or girlfriend who waited for him to get off work every night. The thought depressed her, so she shoved it away and hummed a wordless tune while waves of sound energy sloughed all the sweat and grime from her body.
Wrapped in a thick robe, she fussed around in the kitchen, preparing coffee, toasting a bagel, and cutting up fresh fruit into a small bowl. With breakfast on the table, she pressed her thumb to the plate and a door slid open, revealing the coiled asp in the form of the morning news vid disk.
“Come on, baby, show Mama some love.” She popped it into the disk player and settled down to read while she ate.
“Oh, big surprise, another politician with his hand caught up a tranny’s skirt.” She snorted and scrolled to the classifieds. The 3-D imager projected the list of jobs currently available in New New York. Her heart sank when she realized she wasn’t qualified for any of them. Since machines took care of all the rote tasks, the need for unskilled labor was at an all-time low in the city. Even the dog walkers had gone animated because bots were more likely to scoop the poop.
I’ve been outmoded.
Needing a little reassurance, she gave the voice command for autodial 1 and disengaged the hologram. At 104 years old, Nana was still unbelievably vain and refused to engage the camera most of the time.
“Hello?” A familiar rumbling baritone picked up.
Even though her name and address showed up as soon as the call connected, Gen was used to her grandfather’s archaic greeting. “Hi ya, Gramps.”
“Hey, punkin head. How’s everything with you?”
For a moment Gen considered lying, not wanting him to worry about her. But in the end, she needed someone to confide in. And Nana didn’t believe in keeping secrets, so Gramps would find out anyhow. “Not so good. I lost my job yesterday.”
He made a sympathetic sound. “Aw, baby, I’m so sorry to hear that. Which job was this again?”
Had he been anyone else in the same age group, Gen would have worried his mind was going. But her grandfather had a habit of letting details drift in one ear and sail right out the other.
“Off-world vacay coordinator. Remember, I booked that cruise for you and Nana to sail around Saturn’s rings for your seventieth anniversary last year?”
“Oh, that’s right. Don’t worry, though, punkin head, you’ll find something even better.” There was some shuffling and his voice called out, “Cora, Gen’s on the line.”
“Nice talking to you, Gramps,” Gen muttered at the same time Cora’s robust voice called out, “Honestly, Jack, would it kill you to talk for more than a minute?”
“You won’t get rid of me that easily, hot stuff,” Gramps muttered, and Nana let out a squeak. Gen would bet her best pair of high-heeled boots that he’d pinched her grandmother’s ass.
One hundred six and still a randy old goat. They don’t make ’em like that anymore.
“What’s wrong, lovey?” Cora asked immediately.
Gen rocked back in the chair, then stood, filled with a restless energy she couldn’t ignore. “Nothing and everything.”
“Give me a play-by-play,” Cora demanded.
So Gen did, leaving out nothing, not even her encounter with a prostitute, though she skirted the details. There was no sense trying to hide anything from Nana. She was a powerful telepath who had been trained as a government weapon from an early age. People didn’t mess with Nana if they wanted their higher brain functions to stay in working order.
Cora sighed. “Well, is there anything I can do? Do you need money for the man whore?”
“Nana!” Gen shook her head, then cursed under her breath when she remembered the holo wasn’t on. “No, he was a gift from my friend Gia. And as far as gifts go, let’s just say once was enough for me.”
“That good, huh? Do you want to come home for a spell?”
Though the offer tempted her, Gen couldn’t take it. “As nice as that sounds, I need to stay here in case Tanny comes back. And I need to find a job, maybe even a boyfriend.”
“Things will work out, lovey. You’ll get a new job, meet a handsome man, get married, and
bam!
Alone and unemployed is lost in the current of too busy once more.”
Gen sighed as she looked out the window into the bright blue sky. A commuter bus whizzed by, filled with people heading to work. “It’s not that simple, Nana. People are no longer wired for the kind of commitment you and Gramps have. Men my age don’t want more than a quick nail-and-bail.”
“Honey, men of
any
age don’t know
what
they want. Look at your grandfather.”
Jack muttered noncommittally in the background.
Gen shook her head. “That is so not true, Nana. He wanted you right from the start, before he even met you in person. That hasn’t changed.”
“But everything else did. Gen, he used to kill people for a living. We both had to decide what we wanted in terms of ourselves and each other, then fight like rabid wolves to get it. Society has bled all the fight out of young people—you don’t have to do any of the hard stuff anymore. Hell, you can scare up a date with a quick online order and a thumbprint scan. Fantasy made easy.”
Gen thought about her earlier encounter with Franco. “And yet there’s still something missing.”
“Don’t those man whores come with some kind of satisfaction-guaranteed clause?”
Gen squirmed in her seat. “Uh, Nana, I’m really not comfortable—”
But Cora was like a supersonic freight train once she got on a roll. “If that man left you less than one hundred percent satisfied, you ought to march your behind right on down to that brothel and demand an exchange.”
“Do I need to hear this?” Gramps called out.
“No, dearest heart. I won’t be returning you anytime soon,” Cora cooed.
“I gotta go,” Gen said, figuring her grandparents needed some alone time.
“Oh, are you still going up north this weekend? If so, remember that you need to turn the hot water heater back on in the cabin.”
Gen was about to refuse, when she considered the plus side of getting out of town. Namely she could hide from the to-do list for a little while. “I haven’t decided yet.”
On the other end of the line, things had progressed without her. “Come here, you sassy vixen.”
Cora squeaked and giggled like a teenager, and Gen hung up before her grandparents scarred her for life. Instead of diving back into the classifieds, she surfed the Internet for Illustra’s Website and pulled up their guarantee clause. Settling down with another cup of coffee, she began to read.
 
“Hi, I’m looking for Alison Cartwright?” Gen smiled at the blond receptionist over the glass table. She let her gaze wander around the opulent lobby. Every piece of furniture in the building was either glass or chrome, producing an oddly cold and sterile environment. The walls were coated in dove gray, the carpet a nondescript mauve. Nothing she’d seen so far had alluded to sex or passion.
The blonde gave her a cool, detached smile. “Did you have an appointment with her?”
“No.” Gen leaned over the massive desk and whispered low, “I actually wanted to speak to her about something in your company’s guarantee clause.”
The receptionist’s already perfect posture went ramrod stiff. “Did she not satisfy you? Do you want to file a formal complaint?” Her loud voice bounced off the walls like a humiliating echo.
Heat crept up her cheeks as she realized the girl had misunderstood her intent. “No! Nothing like that. Alison is an old friend of mine from high school, and I had a couple of questions for her.”
“Oh.” The girl sagged as though relieved. “Sorry I reacted like that. We’ve been having some complaints lately and I thought that you—”
A sharp clap cut the receptionist off midstream. “Julia, enough. Don’t babble at the customers. It’s gauche.”
“Oh, I’m not a customer—that is, I was, but I’m really here because ...” Gen trailed off as she looked the new woman over head to toe. “Alison?”
Heavily mascaraed lashes blinked in surprise before realization hit. “Genevieve Luzon? Oh my God, I would recognize you anywhere!”
Gen couldn’t have said the same. Even after viewing Alison’s business card chip, she hadn’t been fully aware of the other woman’s total transformation. Her smile revealed even white teeth that could star in toothpaste advertisements, and she smelled of Venus Allure Number Five. Dressed in a black business suit tailored to fit her trim new figure, Alison looked everything and nothing like her seductive self from the 3-D image.
“You look fantastic!” Gen said instead.
Alison smiled and smoothed a hand across her suit jacket. “Thanks. What’s new with you?”
“My sister ran away from home and I got fired.” Gen made a face. “Sorry, I know you didn’t really want to know all that.”
Alison laughed. “Same old Gen. Listen, I’d love to chat, but I’m a bit busy at the moment. Maybe we could have lunch next week and catch up?”
“Actually, I wanted to talk to you about an encounter I had last night with one of your pleasure companions.”
Alison glanced around the lobby quickly, checking to see if anyone had overheard. “Let’s take this to my office.”
Gen followed Alison up a curving flight of stairs and into an office overlooking the Hudson River. “Wow, business must be lucrative.” She winced when she realized how that sounded.
Alison closed the door and laughed. “Believe me, I’d never thought of myself as the type to sleep my way to the top. But Illustra is different from the pleasure agencies of yesteryear. I almost never do active fieldwork anymore.”
She waved Gen into a mauve armchair and circled the desk.
“I did a little reading online, but I was wondering if you could give me some more background on Illustra.”
Alison smiled. “Sure, a little history, then. As you probably know, scores of corporate pleasure troves emerged when prostitution was legalized in 2059, after the advent of personal health shields. Most of those starter businesses were individuals or small groups specifically geared toward male clientele. Prostitution is, of course, the oldest profession known to humanity, and with the safety screens preventing both transfer of disease and unwanted pregnancy, well, it was really just a matter of time until everyone wanted a piece of the action, so to speak.”
Gen nodded. “From what I read, that time period was chaos—people misrepresenting themselves in online databases, moral objections, especially from women’s rights groups.”
BOOK: No Limits
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