knew his shaft was pounding into her heat, slamming balls-deep with every stroke as her satin walls milked the last strands of his control right out from his mind.
Minka’s delicate frame shivered and shook as she screamed his name and soared into the infinite ecstasy of utter satisfaction. He was so caught up in the miracle of her orgasm, that his own ropy blasts of cum caught him by surprise as he joined her in a heart-stuttering climax.
While he kept his crushing weight off Minka, he struggled to regulate his heart and breathing with the goal of living long enough to make love with Minka again and again.
The release was as different from his past sexual experiences as mechs were from cyborgs—technically the same, but nothing in common.
For hours he had considered alternate approaches to winning her cooperation. Without her acceptance of the triad, protecting her from further cyborg assaults would be close to impossible. Never had he dreamed that she would welcome a mech as her lover. He was surprised, relieved and gratified by her attitude toward him. He could not have formulated a better strategy to improve her trust and willingness to cooperate with their mission to protect her.
Chapter Four
Silly man, treating her like some kind of fragile blossom. Minka grinned to herself. For all Batzorg’s overwhelming power and fierceness, he was sweet and way too serious. She wound her arms tighter around his neck and tugged him closer, encouraging him to press against her.
Whoa. Sudden crushing weight compressed her lungs. She couldn’t talk, fought to breathe, and slapped frantically at his back.
He levered all the way off her. The sturdy, wooden bed frame creaked and groaned in protest as he eased to his feet. Worry creased his brow. “Are you all right?”
She rasped in enough breath to say, “Fine, you just squished me for a moment.” She paused to take another few deep drags of air before she tried a teasing tone. “You are really heavy.”
His dark eyes went flat and bleak. “Mechs come with a lot of metal components, a weapons specialist more than other members. I weigh approximately one hundred and eighty kilograms without my armor, clothes and pack.”
She frowned and did the math conversion from metric to pounds. Sure she’d screwed up somewhere, she recalculated. “You weigh close to four hundred pounds?”
“Correct.”
“You carry it well.” Her lame attempt to lighten his dark mood fell flat. She pulled on her undershirt and long johns—thin armor, but better than nothing, and tried again. “You’re solid muscle. Where’s all this serious weight?”
Batzorg stayed quiet for so long she began to think he wasn’t going to answer. Then he grasped his left elbow and a control panel hidden on the inside of his wrist popped open. His gaze met hers in a mute question.
Probably the same one she was asking herself. Do I really want to know more?
After sucking in a deep breath for courage, she gave a single, decisive nod. “Show me.”
His fingers moved over the panel, entering what she guessed was some kind of command sequence. She watched in horrified fascination as his left arm made an amazingly quick transformation into a futuristic weapon.
She blinked, but the man’s arm, which held her so tightly, had vanished, leaving nothing except the metallic instrument of destruction. She tried to remember the gun she’d seen him use to shoot the creep who’d hurt Nigel, but the image refused to come into clear focus.
At the time, with the cyborg tightening his chokehold on her throat, she’d been so scared her eyes had been squeezed shut more often than not. She’d never actually seen Batzorg pull out his weapon. She’d made a simple, mistaken assumption the gun had come from some kind of holster or case. She flapped a hand at the weapon, blaster, whatever. “What do you call it?”
“Annihilator 2300. An excellent weapon capable of stopping a cyborg from distances up to a
Minka’s delicate frame shivered and shook as she screamed his name and soared into the infinite ecstasy of utter satisfaction. He was so caught up in the miracle of her orgasm, that his own ropy blasts of cum caught him by surprise as he joined her in a heart-stuttering climax.
While he kept his crushing weight off Minka, he struggled to regulate his heart and breathing with the goal of living long enough to make love with Minka again and again.
The release was as different from his past sexual experiences as mechs were from cyborgs—technically the same, but nothing in common.
For hours he had considered alternate approaches to winning her cooperation. Without her acceptance of the triad, protecting her from further cyborg assaults would be close to impossible. Never had he dreamed that she would welcome a mech as her lover. He was surprised, relieved and gratified by her attitude toward him. He could not have formulated a better strategy to improve her trust and willingness to cooperate with their mission to protect her.
Chapter Four
Silly man, treating her like some kind of fragile blossom. Minka grinned to herself. For all Batzorg’s overwhelming power and fierceness, he was sweet and way too serious. She wound her arms tighter around his neck and tugged him closer, encouraging him to press against her.
Whoa. Sudden crushing weight compressed her lungs. She couldn’t talk, fought to breathe, and slapped frantically at his back.
He levered all the way off her. The sturdy, wooden bed frame creaked and groaned in protest as he eased to his feet. Worry creased his brow. “Are you all right?”
She rasped in enough breath to say, “Fine, you just squished me for a moment.” She paused to take another few deep drags of air before she tried a teasing tone. “You are really heavy.”
His dark eyes went flat and bleak. “Mechs come with a lot of metal components, a weapons specialist more than other members. I weigh approximately one hundred and eighty kilograms without my armor, clothes and pack.”
She frowned and did the math conversion from metric to pounds. Sure she’d screwed up somewhere, she recalculated. “You weigh close to four hundred pounds?”
“Correct.”
“You carry it well.” Her lame attempt to lighten his dark mood fell flat. She pulled on her undershirt and long johns—thin armor, but better than nothing, and tried again. “You’re solid muscle. Where’s all this serious weight?”
Batzorg stayed quiet for so long she began to think he wasn’t going to answer. Then he grasped his left elbow and a control panel hidden on the inside of his wrist popped open. His gaze met hers in a mute question.
Probably the same one she was asking herself. Do I really want to know more?
After sucking in a deep breath for courage, she gave a single, decisive nod. “Show me.”
His fingers moved over the panel, entering what she guessed was some kind of command sequence. She watched in horrified fascination as his left arm made an amazingly quick transformation into a futuristic weapon.
She blinked, but the man’s arm, which held her so tightly, had vanished, leaving nothing except the metallic instrument of destruction. She tried to remember the gun she’d seen him use to shoot the creep who’d hurt Nigel, but the image refused to come into clear focus.
At the time, with the cyborg tightening his chokehold on her throat, she’d been so scared her eyes had been squeezed shut more often than not. She’d never actually seen Batzorg pull out his weapon. She’d made a simple, mistaken assumption the gun had come from some kind of holster or case. She flapped a hand at the weapon, blaster, whatever. “What do you call it?”
“Annihilator 2300. An excellent weapon capable of stopping a cyborg from distances up to a
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