Runner: The Fringe, Book 3 (24 page)

“Maybe I’m going to come in there and sleep with you.”

“With that big old gun and those shiny keys? I doubt it.” Jynx rolled over and snuggled in with a sigh.

Gun drawn, he still stood in the dark. Listening. Her breathing rate slowed. To his shock, a slow giggle came from her bunk. “Holster your gun and go to bed, Foster. Or go play with your ship. Or yourself. Whatever. Just go.”

Gritting his teeth, he said, “Lights.”

Every light in the room blazed.

Jynx shot up out of bed, holding the blanket to her chest.

With a deliberate finger, he flipped the safety on, then holstered his weapon. He took off his equipment belt, dumped it in one of the cages, then plucked out the two metal cylinders, tossed them on the bed, exited, and said, “Lock number four.”

With a snick, the cage locked down when he closed the door.

“Open number six.”

A smart click.

Foster strode over to her cell door and yanked it open. He grinned at her shocked face. “What did you say to me?”

Jynx gulped. She had no idea Foster could order his ship around like that. She’d giggled at the thought she’d get to go to bed on the sounds of him stumbling out of the dark cell room. The situation wasn’t nearly so funny now that he was staring at her with a curious tilt to his head, while standing less than three strides from where she stood by her bunk, clutching a useless blanket to her chest like a flimsy shield.

He took a step. “What did you say to me?”

“Nothing I’d care to repeat.”

Devoid of emotion, he laughed in a sharp burst. “Smart move.” He took another step.

Jynx backed up.

“Where’re you gonna go, Sweets?” He took another step.

Darting a glance behind her, she backed up another step and realized she almost stood in the shower. Getting desperate and afraid, she hissed, “Stop it.”

“What’s wrong? It’s not so funny now?”

Big and hulking, riddled with bulging muscles that strained against faded jeans and a worn steel-blue T-shirt, Foster looked anything but funny. Summer-blue eyes turned dark azure as he pinned her with a lethal gaze. One solid burst of energy and he could tear her apart. Or worse. One little touch of his finger and he could force her surrender.

“Funny? No. Not anymore. I apologize, Mr. Nash. Now please leave my cell.”

“I got serious issues with being laughed at.” Foster closed the distance between them and lifted his hand to the blanket. “I don’t think this is going to help you much.” He yanked it from her hands and tossed it aside. “Other thing I got serious issues with is someone giving me orders on my ship.”

Jynx startled back into the shower. “I’m not ordering you to leave I’m—asking.” Heaven help her, she’d beg him if he’d just go away. If he thought he intimidated her he was right, he did, but it excited her too. Dear God, she
was
insane! She still wanted him even knowing it was just a game to him.

He looked around the shower. “I’ve got a nice memory of this room. You all naked and wet, and me with all my clothes on.”

She remembered with hot clarity. “You busted your scanner, didn’t you?” Keeping her voice bright, she hoped to distract him. For what, she wasn’t sure, but distracting him seemed like a good start to a plan.

“That’s right. I’ll have to charge Roberts extra for that.” He trapped her with his arms. “Busted my scanner in the line of duty. Hazard pay, I think.”

“And what of bedding me? Is that hazard pay as well?”

“No.” Foster pressed her back to the wall, molded his body to hers as he forced her chin up. “That’s what they call bonus.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Foster gazed down into her eyes. Despite the brightness of the lights, her pupils were dilated. Even in the relative darkness of the semi-enclosed shower, they seemed bigger than they should. She didn’t tense away but surrendered, melting against him. Ruthless bastard aside, Jynx still wanted him.

As if she realized what she was doing, she tightened and leaned back. “I think you’ve done enough to earn your bonus, don’t you?” Despite her fear, she kept her gaze to his as she pressed against the plastic shower cell wall.

Jynx didn’t try to get away because she knew she couldn’t. Foster held her so fully pinned, if she moved at all she’d make a whole lot of friction. Just thinking about it made Foster hard. Rather than pull away, he pressed closer, nudging her belly with his erection.

“I think I should wring from you everything you’re willing to give.” Lowering his face, he brushed his cheek along hers as he slid his lips to her ear. “Taste every last bit of a beautiful, educated, smart and sexy IWOG lady.”

“Who’s pregnant.”

She looked triumphant when he pulled back.

“You think that bothers me? That you’re knocked up?” Foster touched her belly with a possessive hand. “I don’t care. I want you willing. I wanna make you feel good.” Foster bit along her neck and teased the curve of her breast.

Reluctantly, she moaned.

“I only know what you told me about the guy, but I’ll bet I’m a hell of a lot better at stoking your fire than he was.” Foster slid his hand lower, stroking his fingers across the edge of her bellybutton. “Don’t lie to me. Sex wasn’t like this with Brandt, was it?”

“No.” She closed her eyes, horrified at her own honesty.

“No. Not like this.” Swirling his fingers lower, Foster slid them between her legs, pushing just hard enough to elicit a groan. “It wasn’t like this because you never wanted quite as badly as you do now. You want me something fierce. Even knowing what a ruthless bastard I am.” Touching his lips to her ear, he whispered, “Tell me the truth, Jynx. You want me.”

“Yes.” Her breathless admission struck him as strongly as if she’d bit him in a haze of passion.

Fighting desperately for control, Foster knew this had nothing whatsoever to do with his grand plan to save her. This was strictly personal. He just wanted her one last time, and he wanted her willing because he couldn’t take her any other way.

“Be my servant. Give yourself to me.”

Jynx sucked down a deep breath that trembled with fear and need.

“You want,” he encouraged. “So do I. What could it hurt? It isn’t like anyone is going to come knocking on the door, right?”

“Stop throwing my words back in my face, Mr. Nash.” She reached out, grasped the edge of his button fly, yanked it hard and down, popping the buttons apart with a sharp
thwhap
.

Instantly aroused by her aggression and her clear sign of agreement, Foster settled her hand around his silk-clad cock. “The smell of you, the taste of you, just the thought of you makes me hard.” Taking her hand up and down his length made him groan. “What could one more night hurt?”

“One more night?” Jynx asked, cupping him. “Before you deliver me to the lion’s den?” Pressing her hand a bit harder, a bit tighter, leaning close, she asked, “One last night with the legendary Never-Fail Nash?” A part of her wanted to stroke him to critical mass as fast as she could, if only to feel triumphant by it. Another part wanted him to last the whole night through.

One last time with him would be a bonus to her as much as it would be to him. Whether he told the truth or not, he would enjoy having sex with her for the same reasons she’d enjoy it with him. They seemed to be very good together. Jynx tried to force the fact that she loved him to the back of her mind as she just enjoyed the pleasure of his touch, but love got all tangled up in the sensations of her body and she finally just let it. What did it matter now? If she was a fool for love, she certainly wouldn’t be alive long enough to regret it.

“I’ll be your servant once again, Foster, if you’ll be my master.”

Rippling with power, his body pressed hers tight to the wall of her prison shower. “Call me Mr. Nash. You know I like that.” He pressed his hand firmly to the juncture of her thighs. All that stood between them was his mustard yellow T-shirt.

Breathless, trying not to move, Jynx said, “Yes, Mr. Nash.”

“Yes.” His voice mocked, trilling to her ear. “Lovely lady so corrupted. Let’s find out how much.” He pulled back. “Tell me what you want.”

“Aren’t you changing the parameters of the game?” she asked with a coyly arched brow. “I thought you were in charge.” Lifting her head, she challenged him. Why was she doing this? Space crazy, she told herself, but then she told herself that it didn’t matter now. This wouldn’t change anything, but the truth was, she wanted to take one last plunge into the delicious pleasure he could fill her with. Brutal tender control. Jynx surrendered her body in full league with her heart and soul. “I am at your mercy, Mr. Nash.”

“Mercy?”

“If you have it. Mercy with control.”

“Control?” He tasted the sharp tang of the word by rolling it in his mouth. He grabbed her hand and dragged her from the cell room, down the hall, past his bedroom to a room filled with art supplies.

“What’s this?”

“My studio. I like to paint. I’ve got an urge to paint you.”

“You want me to pose for you? Now?”

His eyes blazed. “Strip.”

Startled at the harshness of his command, she hesitated for a moment, then slipped off her robe. She stood before him dressed only in his ugly mustard yellow T-shirt with grease stains and a hole under the arm. Catching the hem, she went to pull it over her head.

“Wait.” He ran his finger along the frayed collar. “I think it’s time to retire this battered relic.” Grasping it tight with his fists, he yanked and ripped it right down the center.

His rough handling so shocked her, she reeled back. Foster caught the edges and pulled her against his rock-hard body.

“What’s wrong? Too aggressive?” Lowering his lips to her ear, he gave her a sharp nip. “I thought you liked that about me.” Pressing her to him with the edges of his own ripped T-shirt, lifting her a bit so that her belly pressed against the painful erection in his boxers, which was prominently displayed by his unbuttoned jeans, Foster manipulated her body to his with a frightening finesse. “Only got to say stop.”

Trying to keep her voice from coming out in a breathless whisper, Jynx shook her head, nodded yes, then said, “Tell me one thing.”

“Maybe.” Biting and working his way along her neck, he tilted her head back, and asked, “What?”

“You’re not going to hurt me, are you?”

Foster considered her face for a long time. “No. Told you once before I don’t want to hurt you.” Stroking his finger from her face to her nipple, twisting it gently between his forefinger and thumb, he said, “I want to make you feel good.” Lowering his head, he took one tight nipple to his mouth and sucked softly, urging it to a greater contraction. “You don’t like what I’m doing, you say stop. Better do it soon.”

On a gasp, Jynx cradled his head to her breast. “Go.”

Teasing her breasts with his mouth, his rough facial hair, he trailed his hand down to center on the wet heat between her legs. Rolling his fingertips in a soft circle caused her to whimper and cling to him. Loving the taste of her, the feel of her and that maddening scent of her, Foster struggled to simply torment her, to make her lose control while maintaining his own.

“Do you like that?” he asked, placing his mouth to her other breast as he continued to finger her.

“Yes.”

When she tried to touch him, he pushed her hands away and dropped to his knees. Nudging her open, exposing her to the tender mercies of his tongue, Foster reveled in the tart, sweet taste of her and the ever-increasing moans of pleasure that shook her lovely body. Pushing her right to the edge, he stopped and grinned up at her.

Frustration made her eyes dark amethyst. Her mouth worked slowly open and closed. Even though he was on his knees before her, she had no doubt who was in charge. While she watched, he slipped his tongue to her clit with one long, slow swipe.

Her head rolled back as she moaned. “Oh—my—Foster.”

“I’m ready to paint you now.” He stood, tore off his shoes, socks and his jeans, and tossed them away, then pushed the ripped T-shirt from Jynx’s shoulders.

“Stand here.” He placed her on a fabric tarp on the floor. Still wearing his hunter green silk boxes, he hummed as he searched through the boxes of paints for one in particular. A very special paint. “Ah, here it is.”

Jynx gave the bottle a curious, somewhat leery gaze. “Where’s the canvas?” She looked around the studio.

Dipping a brush into the oddly sparkly, iridescent paint, Foster stroked a broad swath of it down from her chin to her navel. “You. You’re the canvas.”

Jynx thought he meant paint her as in paint a portrait of her, not actually paint her body. Standing still, letting the slide of the brush along her flesh remind her of his mouth, she couldn’t stop trembling. Sharp desire flared.

Decorating her with curlicues and intricate designs, he covered her with the shiny paint. He even stroked some through her hair and across her cheekbones. She had no idea what she looked like, but if the straining in his boxers gave any indication, he seemed pleased with his work.

He considered her with a discerning gaze. “Just as I imagined. Your skin is a wonderful canvas.” He handed her the brush, slipped off his boxers and ordered, “Do me.”

“Do you?” She held the brush in her hand as she considered his demand.

He flashed her that biting grin. “With the paint.”

Obviously his nudity did not make him feel vulnerable in any way. He stood tall, waiting for her to paint him.

Considering his powerful body, she swept the brush across his face, like war paint, then used it to further accentuate his muscles. Dripping and draping it around his pectorals, his biceps, even down along the powerful ripple of his quadriceps. She stroked glistening paint on his back from the muscular thrust of his gluteus maximus to his hamstrings.

He chuckled as she ran the brush up his obliques. “That tickles.”

She thought about stroking the brush along his penis—that would stop his chuckles—but she noticed he’d been careful to avoid certain places on her body, so she did the same.

She stepped back to consider her work. Foster looked like a Greek statue defaced by vandals. But as she looked closer she realized the iridescent paint enhanced his body and made him seem magical. All his beautiful muscles defined. Looking deep, Jynx saw his marshmallow heart, hidden far below his powerful body.