“I’m going to come,” Fairchild said. “Oh God, I’m going to come.”
She tossed her head back and shouted as a second wave of pleasure rippled through her body, shivering every atom of her being with sensations of pure bliss. Beneath her, Nash arched his back and groaned, body trembling, muscles flexing in a rhythmic pattern of ecstasy.
It was all for show. The young Merc was faking it.
Fairchild had to admit, Nash was a damn good actor. She probably would have bought his performance, if not for the fact that his dick was inside her. If he’d been coming for real, she would have felt it.
She slid one hand into position between her legs, pretending to toy with her clit. Then, as she slid herself off him, she gripped the shaft of his cock and aimed it right at Rook’s face.
“Now!” she shouted.
CHAPTER 29
Fairchild had noticed something over the past few weeks. Each of her three teammates was a bit different when it came to their “equipment.” Dutton was the thickest of the three. His girth always stretched her with a pleasure that bordered on pain. Reece, on the other hand, was a bit longer. His tip always tested her depth in ways that made her tingle.
And Nash?
Perhaps it was because he was the youngest of the crew, younger even than Fairchild herself, or maybe it was just something in his genes. Whatever it was, the fact was undeniable.
Nash came the hardest.
Fairchild had learned about that the first day aboardthe Allura, when Nash had shot his load clear across the octagon. It probably would have gone even farther if not for the side of the cage.
But now, in the breeding room, it wasn’t a piece of chain-link that caught Nash’s cum.
It was Rook’s face.
The first spurt landed directly in the traitor’s left eye, half blinding her. The second landed in her right, blinding her completely. The third went straight into her mouth, which had gasped open in surprise. It hit the back of her throat, and she started to gag.
Fairchild didn’t bother to see where the rest of it landed. She was already on the move, lunging for Rook’s gun-hand, which had shifted out of alignment with Nash’s head.
The gunshot was painfully loud in the enclosed space. The round sparked off the metal floor.
The next shot might not be so harmless. Fairchild needed to disarm Rook.
Now.
Wrenching the pistol out of her fingers would be nearly impossible. The two women were almost an equal match for strength, and Rook already had a strong grip on the handle of the gun.
But maybe there was another way.
As they both crashed into the wall at the back of the enclosure, Fairchild’s thumb found the magazine release on the side of the gun. She pressed it, and the ammo mag dropped from the bottom of the grip. She kicked it across the room.
That left one in the chamber.
Get rid of it.
Fairchild had gotten her body partway round behind Rook’s. She yanked the woman’s gun hand around toward the far side of the room. Toward where Slayn was standing. Maybe she could—
Rook was blind, but a Merc didn’t need eyes to see. She knew what Fairchild was doing, and she stopped it, pulling the trigger before the muzzle was pointed at her boss. The round punched a dent into the steel wall a few inches shy of Slayn’s head. Closeenough he probably heard the bullet whistle past. He bleated in fear and darted for the door.
Shit.
If Slayn got away, it would mean alarms. It would mean guards. It would mean a whole lot of extra problems Fairchild didn’t want to deal with.
She broke away from Rook and started after him, but Rook managed to hook her ankle, and she hit the floor hard. The impact knocked the air from Fairchild’s lungs. She was dazed.
Slayn slapped the button to open the door.
