Ghosts in the System

[The_gladiator]

“All in good time then.”


His teeth grazed her right nipple as he slowly pulled away, kissing along her breasts, finally pressing his face between them. Kissing the skin there. Breathing in the scent that was her.


A bit self-conscious at that, he shifted to what she wanted.


He pulled off the top of the uniform.


The tattoos did wind. Swirling patterns over his arms and shoulders, a hypnotic spread across his chest. Deep reds and blacks against the light tan of his skin. He was in shape from actual work on ships, not from a gym. Martial training, maybe, if you knew what to look for.


He slid his arms around her waist and pulled her bare breasts to his chest. Kissed up her throat. Her neck. Stopped at that place just below her jaw where his mouth seemed to fit.

 

[WretchRoad]

The mind had always been more interesting to her than form. For that reason she savored his brief moment of vulnerability more than he could know. It was the raw emotion she craved when she watched someone come apart for her. She thought of what he would sound like, what he look like when she brought him there.

She smoothed her palms over his shoulders and down his arms like she could absorb meaning through touch alone.

The design of his flesh was intriguing, the designs on his flesh were even more so. Becker, to her, was as much his choices as he was his body.

Her lips parted in breathy gasps. She was no longer insistent, only rocked slowly against him.

As he came up her neck, she moved to catch his mouth with hers again.

 

[The_gladiator]

He kissed her again.


Hands slid down from her breasts to frame her waist, then up her back, burying in her hair as he got lost in it. His tongue’s turn to explore her mouth.


He should have chosen the bunk. He did not want to stop to relocate. What if she came to her senses.


He pulled back and rested his forehead against hers, breathing hard.


“I don’t think you kiss Gunther like that.”


Satisfaction in it. And a smirk.

 

[WretchRoad]

Gunther. Why was he thinking of him? She wasn't.

The woman calling herself Danica did not dissociate to do her job, as many in the profession had told her was necessary. She wanted to be completely present for all that took place around and inside her.

She looked him in the eye, but matched his smirk. "You'd be right. But I don't care how you kissed Starla."

With that she slid one of her hands down, around to his stomach, and lower. Her fingers explored between them until she could just feel him though fabric. In an unspoken signal, a reminder that it was only them on that ship, she squeezed —and hoped that brought him back to the present with her.

 

[The_gladiator]

The rebuke was soft. He couldn’t even be bothered by it. The correction was needed. Joke or not, it had said there was still a part of his mind analyzing instead of feeling.


Her hand moved to remedy that.


It took only the brush of slender fingers through the tough fabric to make him gasp.


“Yes. Please.”


More heat in his eyes as she touched him. He had always had a weakness for hands. For the things women could do with them.


“You win,” he whispered.


In that moment he knew she had a degree of power over him. He’d do much just to feel more of her touch.

 

[WretchRoad]

She stilled her fingers there, against his rigid outline, enamored by the way desire played upon his features.

She wasn't sure what she won, but by the way he looked at her, she knew she'd won it. At least while she could keep him like this.

It's a shame she had to move away.

Pushing herself back, she pulled one leg out at a time so that she stood before him, topless. She watched him closely, watched where his gaze traveled when she hooked her fingers into her trousers and dragged them down, along with her panties.

When she stepped out, her pale, toned body lazer-smooth everywhere below the eyebrows, she stilled for a moment —as though presenting herself for approval she knew was assured.

 

[The_gladiator]

He was disappointed her hand had left him.


He could not remotely be disappointed with what came next.


He let his gaze trace up the long shapely curves of her thighs to that bare mound, its lips just beginning to shine with the wetness seeping from her.


He licked his lips. Almost nervous.


He leaned around her, face pressing to her belly for a moment as he slapped a control. A protective cover folded down over the board. Meant for dust, maybe. The lock said it was also meant to keep other people off his ship.


No buttons in the way now.


He gestured her up onto the console. When she didn’t move immediately he put his hands on her waist and half-lifted her onto it, then sat back so he was between her thighs.


Hungry.


“God, I want this.”


He leaned in and tasted her. Light. Still on the outside. Catching the overflow. The drops that admitted she wanted him.

 

[WretchRoad]

It wasn't what she expected when the shield snapped down.

He was going to bend her over, she thought, take back his control. But that wasn't Becker, not right now, and not on the dancefloor. Maybe it was the people she never could draw a bead on who really understood how to captivate her. How to make her shudder.

A shiver ran straight out from her core at that first touch. There was no hiding how much she wanted more.

One hand braced against the edge of the console, she threaded her fingers through his hair and held them there. She didn't press or pull, she just needed an anchor.

"I want to see your eyes when you lick me," she rasped, her breath coming hot and fast.

 

[The_gladiator]

A request he was all too willing to oblige.


He rolled his eyes up to meet hers. Bright. Looking deep. Letting her see how much he wanted this.


His tongue slid up and in, parting her lips, teasing the length of her.


Slowly his hands came up and opened her like a flower blooming.


He traced higher until the tip of his tongue caressed over her clit.


A noise of pleasure left him.


She tasted of woman and desire. He wanted this—this moment where she shared herself with him. It wasn’t taking in the traditional sense. It wasn’t timid either.


He knew what he wanted.


What he wanted was not typical.

 

[WretchRoad]

There was a charm about the forbidden that made it unspeakably desireable, her body knew it even if she'd turned herself over to the moment.

That he seemed to be a man of opposites made her shiver with the thrill for what he would do next.

When he opened her, she spread her legs for him, leaning as far as she was able, briefly looking up at the view screens — but that wasn't why she saw stars. A broken noise came from deep in her throat when he found that tender spot at her apex.

She watched him, the way his jaw moved, the whites of his eyes stoking a primal feeling.

She didn't want to say it, told herself she shouldn't. But it came out anyway.

"God, I want you."

 

[The_gladiator]

That admission cost her something.


He did not take it lightly.


He was in no mood to be rushed. He had a goal, and he would not give it up until he had achieved it.


His tongue swirled, then flattened against that bud, teasing. A small noise of need answered her words as clearly as speech.


Her fingers in his hair made him feel wanted. Welcome, even.


Welcome to please her.


That thought got him going.

 

[WretchRoad]

She was flustered by the admission, no matter how obviously true. He seemed even more intent on bringing her to a peak, or well past it, since she uttered those words.

Something she couldn't help, just like the way her hips twitched when he laved over her, or how slick she became under his touch.

She let out a moan, rich in delight, as he teased her. The promise of more drew her closer to an edge, circling it.

 

[The_gladiator]

She was balanced on the edge.


He could feel it. Nothing else like watching her almost fall.


He wanted it. At this point he needed it.


He throbbed in his pants as he pressed closer and drew her clit into his mouth. His eyes finally fluttered closed. Lost in pleasing her.


It wasn’t quite giving up control. He still played her body like an instrument. It was him giving into desire. He stopped performing. Became the man who hungered. A man who had not been allowed to please a woman for years.


He slid one long finger inside her. Curved it. Found that spot. Stroked the pad of his finger over it.


A silent command.


Come for me.

 

[WretchRoad]

His finger slid into place like the last piece in a puzzle. Both hands gripped his head now, and her inner muscles clamped down on that digit.

He sucked, and her mouth opened in a breathless shout. And she arched back against the console in a devastating release.

Whole seconds passed, shivers wracking her body until every fibre of her frame went boneless beneath the workings of his mouth.

She looked down, reaching for him by his shoulders, his arms.

She wanted to taste herself on him.

 

[The_gladiator]

It was like the last piece of a puzzle. The key to a lock.


She came apart for him. Wave after wave.


He never slowed until she went limp and pulled at him, urging him up.


He rose willingly. Arms around her back. Kissed her. Let her taste herself on his mouth.


He pressed between her legs, but he could not complete the union the embrace hinted at. Pants. Boots. Still on.


“I think I’m overdressed for this party,” he murmured against her lips.

 

[WretchRoad]

She made a pleased sound into his mouth, wet with her, and sought out his tongue.

When he pressed against her, still wanting.

"Hmmm," she hummed, working out the problem. As she pretended to think, she slid her hand down between them, giving him a firm stroke from root to tip through the cloth.

"You should take off a layer or two."

She didn't wait for him to acquiesce, already pulling at his waistband, shoving the lower portion of his uniform down over his hips – just far enough to free him.

Taking his cock, she held his base in one hand as she rolled the other up, toward the tip with a slow twist. Her thumb pressed into the slick gathered there.

 

[The_gladiator]

Her hands worked at his pants. Eager, maybe. Willing, for sure.


He felt them sliding down his legs. Then she abandoned the cloth and turned to what she had exposed.


Skilled. She stroked over him for the first time.


He had always had a weakness for hands. She did not disappoint.


“Fuck,” he whispered.


Just from a simple touch, it telegraphed exactly how long it had been.


His eyes never left her. Fascinated. Watching her actually touch him.


He could still taste her on his lips. Her tongue probing for more. Sharing her flavor with him.

 

[WretchRoad]

Her pupils were blown wide and glassy when she broke the kiss, taking him in from the blue of his eyes to the swirls of his tattoos to his rigid member, throbbing under her fingers.

"I want all of you, Becker," she spoke like a breathy sigh, stroking his full length with long, languid motions.

Both her legs hooked behind his back, pulling him toward her. The roll of her hand didn't stop as she pressed his blunt head against her, but no further.

"Show me how much you want this."

 

[The_gladiator]

He felt her guide him. Her legs hooking behind his back.


No desire to resist.


“Yes,” he groaned, feeling the warmth, the wetness at the tip of him.


Her hands slid to the base, exposing his shaft. He pressed forward, trusting she had lined him up.


Slow. Even. Rocking at her entrance first, then deeper strokes, adding an inch or less each time until he was seated inside her.


Blue eyes on hers.


“Tell me your name,” he whispered against her lips. “Let me know the truth of the woman giving me this gift.”


He hadn’t expected to say it. He would not let it ruin the mood.


She would tell him or she wouldn’t.


Either way, he wasn’t planning on stopping.

 

[WretchRoad]

Her breath hitched, and her head fell forward against his shoulder as he pushed inside by small measures, opening her, filling her in a way that chased out lingering dread.

Instinctively, she wound tightly around him. Her ankles crossed over his back and her hands roamed up his spine, taking hold of his shoulders as his hips started to move.

Then came the request.

She was not so inexperienced to lose herself in sex, but who was she? In her fierce desire to be present for her every experience, she had to know at least that. Watching the way his eyes seemed to bore into hers, for whatever reason, made it feel wrong to lie to him — even though she'd been doing it for months.

Danica was not the one fucking him.

It was more than fucking, it shouldn't have been, but it was.

She pulled her head back, hazel eyes full of heat and locked on his. "Ester," she said. "My name is Ester."

 

[The_gladiator]

In that moment he wasn’t thinking secret IGA agent. He hadn’t manipulated this to uncover an identity.


He had gotten through the working girl to the woman underneath.


Ester was not an escort’s name. Not a name from that life. It was an old name. Not one you made up.


He gave her the smile that admission warranted.


Then he went back to rocking inside her.


“You are so good. You feel so good.”


He pressed his face into the crook of her neck, breaking eye contact, fighting his body for control. This could not end so quickly.


When he had it again he met her eyes and took up long rolling strokes. Firm. Powerful. In no way rushed.

 

[WretchRoad]

Girls like her never used their real names, his smile told her he knew. He wasn't uncovering a secret, he was seeking a connection — something far more dangerous.

It was then she realized he wasn't a prize to be won or a sin to be committed, he was a deep ache that made her toes curl.

Especially when his control began to fray. She watched his muscles tense, felt him twitch inside her, and was fascinated by his singular focus for those seconds he wrestled with himself.

As soon as he found a rhythm, she gripped him with her inner walls as she rolled her hips to meet him, teasing him with more sensation.

"You feel incredible," she gasped. It wasn't a lie.

Even against the console, she wasn't thinking about the hard cover at her back. Her only thoughts were for the drag of him inside her.

 

[The_gladiator]

She was his. Not forever. Not as if he owned her. For this moment they were joined, wanting the same thing, lost in the shared pleasure.


“Give it to me,” he demanded, low. “Share your pleasure with me. When you go, I will.”


Not a request. A statement of what he already saw happening, as if speaking it aloud would make it so.


His hands slid down and cupped her bottom. His thrusts gained momentum.

 

[WretchRoad]

By then she was lost in it, her body moving with his. She met every thrust with a desperate grind.

"God, yes!" she cried out when he grabbed her for leverage, "Don't stop. Don't you dare stop..." she warned, as though he would.

Close now, her muscles fluttered against him and her thighs tightened as though she could pull him deeper, harder.

"There," she gasped into a messy kiss, fingers digging into his shoulders, leaving pink trails.

Then her eyes shut tight and her body went taut, back arching. A shuddering release.

 

[The_gladiator]

Her warning was unnecessary. He was not going to stop.


The flutter of her against him, the thighs pulling him deeper, the pink trails her fingers left in his shoulders—he filed none of it. There was no room left for filing.


“There,” she had gasped, and then she went.


He felt it. The clamp. The arch. The shudder that ran through her and into him.


He kept the rhythm through it, firm, not chasing yet, letting her take what she had asked for. When the worst of the tautness broke and she started to come down, he followed.


“With you,” he ground out against her mouth.


His hands tightened on her bottom. The long strokes shortened, harder, deeper, until the control he had fought for finally gave. He buried himself and came, a low broken sound against her throat, hips jerking through it until there was nothing left to give.


Forehead to hers. Breathing hard. Still inside her.


He did not move to pull away. Not yet.