::TWENTY SIX::
“I need you to scan out further, Franks. I don’t believe for a second I’d be lucky enough for them just to send one after me.”
“You really think they’re still after you?”
“Wouldn’t you be? Run a deeper scan.”
No way I’m that lucky. The Company wouldn’t make that kind of mistake. They’ll have something else waiting. Both Franks and Riddick are eyeing me carefully. Then again, I am wearing nothing but a blanket, and I’m pretty sure Riddick and I could be heard out here. Dignity is a rare commodity in a space this small.
“When did you last sleep, Franks?”
“I’m fine here, really, Jane. You two take the bunk. I’ve got to give Johnson another shot anyway. Riddick, how’s that leg?”
Riddick shrugs in that noncommittal way that men speak, all gestures, monosyllables, that women never really understand. Franks had once mentioned that he’d known Riddick for more than twenty years. It’s easy to see that, watching them together. They hardly have to say a word to each other.
Riddick presses close into my back, giving Franks enough space to get past, to give Johnson another shot, keep him out for a few more hours. Rest my head back into his shoulder, his hand sliding over my hip, pulling me close to him. Leaning in, to kiss my ear.
“Come to bed with me after, Jane.”
Franks is doing a pretty good job at pretending he doesn’t notice a thing. Kneeling beside Riddick, cleaning his leg. Looks like for the last time, it’s healing nicely, no limp either, or Riddick hides it well. Leave a hell of a scar, though. He’s watching me, silently, leaning back in the co-pilot’s chair, eyes narrowed, chin resting on his fist, as I run a deeper scan. Not reading any tails, which isn’t putting me at ease. There’s something out there, waiting. I can feel it.
“Wake me, Franks, if anything moves out there.”
Riddick and Franks exchange a look. Franks has the good graces to turn before I catch him smirking back at Riddick. I walk to the back, before really catching it. I just know they’re having one of those conversations without words again, and I’m betting I’m in there somewhere.
The bunk is small, not quite enough room for him to stretch out in. Maybe diagonally. Riddick’s wearing the last sheet, so I wait for him. Shamelessly pulls the sheet off, flicking it over the mattress. Sits on the bed, and pulls me down with him in one fluid motion. I guess a naked aroused Riddick in full view is enough for even Franks, as he cuts the lights in the back bay completely.
“You two work that out ahead of time, sweetheart?”
“Didn’t need to.”
Not enough light to see by back here, and my eyes haven’t adjusted yet to the darkness. All I can see of him are his shined eyes, quicksilver in the dark, like a nocturnal animal. Leaning back, pulling the pillow under his head. Throw the blanket over the both of us as he pulls me to his chest. His hands holding my hips, keeping me in his lap.
Not saying anything, just that deep low growl at every exhale. Rest my hands on his chest to feel the sound of it. Stroke over his chest, to find his nipple in the dark, leaning down to nip it gently with my teeth. Soft groan, his growl growing deeper. My hips fidget, but are quickly stilled, his hands holding me over him. One last stroke of the tongue, pulling back, blowing cold air over the wet trail. I don’t need to see to find the other one. Pull a little harder, loving the sound of his growl growing louder.
His hands come off my hips, tangling in my hair. The kiss deep and passionate. Run my hands over the stubble of his jaw, his powerful neck. His tongue slides over mine, slow and seductive, the pace making me ache. Shifts his hips under me, nestling his shaft against wet lips, making us both gasp aloud.
Arch my hips, slicking a wet trail up the underside of his cock. Back down, what little friction there is pulling my hood back, my clitoris tracing the path back down. One hand untangling from my hair, mercilessly pressing me into him, and keeping me from entering me. His heart is racing, but he fights, keeping his pace slow. Everything in him so tightly controlled, fighting against my urgency. If he’s trying to make me beg, he’s coming close to succeeding. Pulling me back, just a little, as I start to bite, his voice a deep hoarse rumble.
“I want you slow this time.”
No room for argument, his hands pinning me, manipulating me, keeping me from acting on my own loss of control. Struggle against him for a moment, hating the sound of my whimper of need. Lie still, listening to his racing heart, his quick panted breaths. He wants it as much as I do. Just slow.
He rests both hands gently on my hips, watching me the whole time. Slow. Arch my hips one last time, the silken skin of our sexes sliding over one another. Raise up at last, his hand reaching down, positioning himself for me. My sharp moan enough for him to warn me to be slow, his hands on my hips making sure. Holding me still, pressing his hips into me, forcing the pace he wants. Gentle glide to the bottom, the fullness alone making me gasp, making my back start to arch.
My hands braced on his chest, rocking back, the movement shallow, a couple of inches at the most. His narrowed eyes watching me above him. Hips raising to meet mine, his hands holding me where he wants me. Arch my back, changing the angle, the pressure on my g-spot constant. Work with the small arc of movement he’s granted me, pressed back deep into him, a slow squeeze at the bottom, on the upstroke. Keep his pace. Feel his heartbeat under my hand, knowing how hard it is for him to be so slow.
Panting and growling underneath me, growing impossibly hard with every squeeze. Both slick with sweat. Still holding my hips, sliding his thumb over my clitoris, pulling up, pressing hard at the bottom of every stroke. Bite my lip to keep from crying out, everything in me focused on keeping the pace he’s set, keeping his hand on my clitoris, the centre of me right now.
Holding me harder, his hips driving up harder into me. Short sharp cries escaping me, despite biting my lip hard enough to bleed. Pulling me down to his chest, flipping us in one graceful move, covering my mouth with his hand, gently. Wrap my legs around his waist, letting him set that same slow pace, deeper, harder now. Buck up into him, every nerve ending in me alive, tingling. Replacing his hand with his mouth, kissing me hard, a moan at the back end of his every panted growl. Losing his battle to keep slow. I’m not helping, pressing into him, urging him faster. Both losing control, no longer caring, both so close. The flush begins at the centre and works its way outwards in waves, everything arching up into him, the source of this exquisite pleasure. Crying out, the sound muffled by his kiss. His hips bucking hard into mine, my own spasming mirrored by his, both coming within seconds of each other. He was waiting for me.
We stay pressed hard to each other, as our kisses gentle. Not wanting to separate just yet. Resting on his elbows, our breath stilling, his nose nuzzling mine. A soft growl before disengaging, curling up behind me, pulling me into the curve of his body. Try to pull out part of the blanket, to cover us, before giving up, and just bunching up whatever sheets and blankets I can reach, and fall asleep in his arms.
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