UNIT 78: RESCUED (CyBRG Files Book 2) Read online

  “Kyrin,” he whispered, easing himself onto the bed next to her. She turned instantly, fitting herself against his side with a sigh of relief. “I’m going to try something to help you, but I’m going to have to—”

  “Please, Rich,” she pulled at his shirt, yanking it loose from his pants and sliding her hands up his suddenly tensed abs. For some reason, the touch of his skin seemed to soothe her, so he reached up between his shoulder blades and simply yanked the shirt off. The seams complained as it came off but he didn’t care. It wasn’t like he needed to cover himself now and he liked her hands on him far more.

  Besides, her father had said he shouldn’t lay a finger on her. He hadn’t said anything about her touching him. Now had he?

  Her hands roved over his chest and carved abs, finding and stroking along the line of all the implants she found there. He shivered at the contact, finding the skin just next to the cybernetics almost unbearably sensitive, the extra stimulation making his cock jerk in his pants. Throbbing as if in demand to be freed.

  “Please…” she begged again. “Touch me like you did before. Put your mouth on me. I hurt so much.”

  “Anything you need, sweetheart. Anytime.”

  He bent his head, swiping his tongue over her nipple and collecting the nectar that dripped from it. The sweetness exploded on his tongue and he felt the aphrodisiac in it try to grab hold of him. Ignoring it, he sent a silent command through his processor for his kidneys, both implants, to scrub it all from his blood as fast as they could.

  She groaned, the sound a mixture of pleasure and relief. He applied himself to his task, using long swipes of his tongue to clean her skin. The taste was saccharine and artificial, but he could tolerate it if it made her more comfortable. He cleaned up her breasts, swiping his tongue over each of her nipples before carefully placing a clean washcloth under each of them.

  She moaned and tried to move them but he stopped her with big hands over hers. “Shh, they’ll keep you clean, sweetheart. Leave them, please?”

  At his voice she quieted down and he moved lower down her body, following the nectar trail over her soft stomach and then dipping his tongue into the cleft at the apex of her thighs.

  “Please… put your mouth on me there,” she moaned, driving her hands into his hair. He growled deep in his throat, the sound instinctive. There was only so much temptation a man could take. With large hands, he pushed her legs further apart, opening her wide for him so he could get his broad shoulders between them. She was so tiny he was worried about dislocating her hips or something, but she merely moaned again and opened for him.

  The sight of her pussy made the breath he had in his lungs punch free. She was perfect. Delicate lips partly pulled back from the little pearl that was her clit, already wet with nectar and the juices of her arousal. But, as much as he could appreciate the sight, he could also see she was swollen and red.

  “Oh sweetheart, you’re really suffering. Aren’t you?”

  He leaned in and swept his tongue from slit to clit. Her fingers tightened in his hair and she cried out, her hips bucking against his face. She needed more so he gave her more. Sliding his metal hand onto her stomach, he held her down as he ravaged her clit, teasing the small bud with lashes of his tongue as she rocked against him.

  The nectar all gone, he lapped at the sweetness of her arousal, growling as he plunged his tongue deep into her pussy… determined to catch every last drop of it. He drove her ruthlessly up to the edge, holding no quarter but for some reason, she wouldn’t go over it. Each time he thought he’d gotten her there, her body shied away at the last minute, like a nervous filly that wouldn’t jump a fence.

  Growling in frustration, he pulled out all the stops. Suckling her swollen clit into his mouth, he slid two fingers deep within her pussy, stroking her inside with long, lazy movements that brushed her g-spot each and every time.

  It did the trick, sending her up and over the edge with a scream that could shatter glass. She came hard, flooding his fingers with the wet heat of her release as her body clamped down hard around his invasion. Lifting his head, he eased her through it with long slow strokes of his fingers until she lay pliant under his touch.

  Pulling free, he eased himself into place next to her, noting her flushed face and the way she avoided his gaze. Her flush was nothing to do with her climax, he realized, but because she was embarrassed. Her next words bore that out.

  “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, trying to cross her legs but obviously finding it uncomfortable. “I’m sorry you’re having to do this for me. I don’t know what they’ve given me but it hurts so much. The only time I can think is when… you know.”

  When she’d just come, he mentally finished as he put the clues together. Which meant whatever they’d given her worked in cycles. He filed that information away for later. It could come in handy for Doc Chambers when she analyzed whatever they’d done to Kyrin. Then he got his thoughts into check. He wasn’t taking Kyrin back to the base, but back to her father.

  “It’s the drugs they have you on. How do you feel now?” he asked, putting his metal hand on her temple. It was far more sensitive than the other one, feeding information directly into his processing unit. “Your temperature is down a bit now.”

  “Hot. Sensitive to the touch,” she admitted. “Unless it’s you touching me, I can’t bear anything against my skin.”

  He nodded, remembering how she’d screamed at the washcloth. Flicking a glance down, he noted the flow from her breasts had slowed. They’d need to change the washcloths again before too long but they should stop her getting all sticky again.

  “Embarrassed.”

  He almost didn’t catch the whispered word, but he yanked his head up, his gaze colliding with hers.

  “What the hell do you have to be embarrassed about?”

  She wriggled uncomfortably, but he noted she didn’t stop touching him, her fingertips drawing lines down his rib implants.

  “Having to beg you to make me come. Needing it so much I lose my mind. Not being able to control my own body.”

  “Hey, hey!” He hooked a finger under her chin to make her look up at him when she would have looked away. “None of this is your fault. I know what it’s like to not have control over your own body. When they did this to me…” He nodded down at himself, indicating the metal components. “I was locked inside myself, screaming for months, not able to control what I said or did. It was hell.”

  “And just for the record,” he added with a quirk of his lips. “You wouldn’t have to beg me to make you come. Any other time or place, I’d be down on my knees begging for the honor of touching you.”

  Her lips paused in a soft “oh” he instantly wanted to kiss off her face.

  Something pinged in the back of his mind and he smiled, opening the notification his processor had sent him. Thousands of tetra-gigs of information sped by his mind’s eye. The worm he’d uploaded simply by passing by one of the Breeding compound’s data-ports on his little tour earlier had done its work. Even now all the information on the Tr’Low database was being downloaded by his shuttle and forwarded on to both his home base and the Space Corps. That way, even if they didn’t make it out of here, Pierce and his cronies had more than enough on the fanatical assholes to level this place. Because one thing was for sure, if they didn’t, when his team mates got here, the Tr’Low would face cyborg retribution unlike anything the galaxy had ever seen.

  But it wouldn’t come to that because they were getting the fuck out of here.

  “Can you walk?” He leaned in to whisper in her ear, making sure his lips couldn’t be seen from anyone outside the room. He’d used his internal array to ensure no one could listen in on them, but he wouldn’t put it past the assholes to have someone that could lip-read as well. Sure, Sister Yancy had cleared the leering breeding males from the corridors around the open-walled room, but there were still nuns watching them. No doubt waiting for whatever sign their dumb-fuck god had told them mean