Choosing Chuckles Page 9

His precision built her faith in him. Bettina gave over her control, savoring the glide of his flesh against her tongue, the experience of having him in her mouth. She wrapped her fingers around his base and inhaled, her cheeks indenting around him.

  He groaned and increased the pace, drawing her over him faster and faster. Her lips hummed, her desire escalating as his did.

  Soon, even that wasn’t enough. He lifted his hips, thrusting into her mouth, fucking her face with a thrilling ferocity. His grunts punctuated each drive forward. His balls smacked her chin.

  Her male was losing control, succumbing to the savage side of him. He twisted her curls around his fingers, tightening his hold on her. Arousing pinpricks of pain jabbed her scalp, that slight hurt exciting her.

  Yet he never ventured deeper than she could handle. She was safe with him, could trust her cyborg, wished they could remain like this for the rest of their lifespans, the two of them in a ship in open space, cut off from all responsibilities, from others.

  But their time together would end, and so would their encounter. His eyes were brighter than a star gone super nova. His lips had flattened into a thin gray line. His rhythm lost its smoothness, became more random.

  He was close. If he could hold off for a moment, one more moment…

  She tilted her chin upward, her teeth grazed against his shaft, and her cyborg lost his shit, driving into her with a spine-tingling howl. Cum exploded out of him, splattering against her throat.

  She swallowed. Pleasure socked her in the gut, knocking the wind out of her. Her pussy clenched around nothing. She inhaled more of his essence. Another burst of bliss hit her.

  She screamed around his cock, the sound muffled, the vibration of her lips against his flesh propelling more cum, more ecstasy from him. It was too much. She tried to retreat, unable to handle it.

  He didn’t allow that, holding her still, filling her mouth again and again with his nanocybotics-laced cum. She had no choice. She had to drink him down, had to endure blasts of euphoria so extreme she almost passed out.

  Her body disconnected from her mind, her limbs shaking, her form convulsing. Her cyborg secured her to him, safeguarding her from harm.

  The jagged edge of her release smoothed. She gradually became still.

  Her cyborg released her, slumping back in his chair. “Fraggin’ hole.” He swept his hands over his face. “You’re going to kill me.”

  “I’m already dead, sir.” She rested her cheek on his right knee.

  “Did I damage you, baby?” He petted her curls, smoothing them.

  Chuckles often asked her that question, his concern for her genuine. She loved that. It made her feel cared for.

  “You didn’t give me more than I could handle, sir.” She gazed up at him, drowsy on good loving. “Did I damage you? I didn’t mean to use my teeth.” That had been an accident.

  “It takes more than your blunt teeth to damage me…permanently.” He shifted in his chair, the motion drawing her attention to his gnarled knee.

  She reached upward and grabbed the small container of healing balm she’d set on the console. “I fabricated this for my dad’s friend, Duggar.” She dipped her fingers into the healing balm and rubbed her hands together, spreading it over her palms. “A mine collapsed while he was in it. A beam fell on both of his legs, crushing them.”

  She massaged the sticky substance into her cyborg’s muscles, loosening them. The healing balm had numbed her fingers, would do the same to his knee, relieving some of his pain.

  “Could they repair Duggar’s damage?” Chuckles’ eyes were partially closed.

  “He walks, but with a limp, sir.” She shrugged. “The Humanoid Alliance might decommission beings with damage, but I don’t trust any male who has seen a vast number of solar cycles and emerged unscathed.”

  Her cyborg’s eyebrows lifted. “Most cyborgs don’t have permanent damage. You wouldn’t trust my brethren?”

  “Do you see them on this ship, sir?” She looked to the left and to the right. “No? There’s your answer.” She only trusted him.

  “You didn’t know I was damaged when you directed me to your shuttle craft’s location.” He challenged her claim.

  “I knew you were damaged when I let you kiss me, sir.” She applied more healing balm to his knee. “I knew you were damaged when I didn’t jettison your ass.”

  She would have likely trusted him without the damage. He was a good male. But his bum knee had softened her stance toward him.

  “Hmmm…” He gazed at her with suspicion.

  She might trust him but her cyborg didn’t trust her. That was intelligent. She did plan to unload him once they reached the planet.

  Silence stretched. She worked his knee with her fingers.

  “The damage was inflicted deliberately.” Chuckles’ voice was soft.

  “Was it, sir?” She didn’t look at him. Her experiences with her dad’s friends had taught her that sometimes that helped beings relate their stories.

  “Cyborgs self-heal. If I hadn’t been given that nanocybotics suppressor, I wouldn’t have a single scar.” Bitterness edged his words. “The handler the Humanoid Alliance had assigned to me was scared of me. My last three handlers had died.”

  She stared unseeingly at his knee. “Did you kill them, sir?”

  “They had threatened to replace me with an E Model.” He shrugged, not answering her question.

  She suspected he had killed them. He was a warrior, didn’t have her hang-ups about ending lifespans.

  “The new handler made me a deal.” Judging by his tone, her cyborg regretted taking that deal. “He wouldn’t seek to replace me and I would complete my assigned tasks and not kill him. He kept that bargain…for a while.”

  “What changed, sir?” How had the handler betrayed him? Because she realized the story had to end with betrayal. Her cyborg’s knee was proof of that.

  “Nothing changed. He was a lying, deceitful human, incapable of keeping his vow.” Hate, raw and intense, wrapped about that one word—human. “He told me he had found an upgrade that would increase my speed. Like a fool, I allowed him to inject me with a nanocybotics suppressor and strap me down. Then he did this.” Her cyborg waved at his knee. “The nanocybotics suppressor prevented the damage from repairing. When the human sent me into battle the next shift, I was severely malfunctioning, could barely walk.”

  “That bastard.” She pulled her hands away from her cyborg, too angry to touch anyone or anything with care. “He wanted you to die, sir.”

  Chuckles’ head dipped. “I didn’t die. My skills offset the damage. But if I hadn’t escaped that planet rotation, if I had returned to base with that damage, I would have been decommissioned.”

  Her cyborg would have been carved apart while alive and conscious. Her stomach twisted. “And now you hate lying, deceitful humans.” He had good reason to do that. “Like…me.”

  She had lied and deceived him, was still doing that. Despair filled her. He couldn’t ever care for a being like her.

  That should have made her happy. When she unloaded him on Vega R, when they parted, she wouldn’t cause him any pain…because he had never truly liked her. She was a body to use, a means to find release.

  But it didn’t bring her joy…because she cared for him. Perhaps too much.

  “You are lying and deceitful.” He bent over and scooped her off the floor, placed her on his lap.

  She pressed her cheek against his chest, hiding her face, her hurt. Hearing her cyborg’s harsh opinion of her had cut her to the bone. “You hate me.” Her body shook with silent sobs. It tore her apart that he thought of her that way.

  “I should hate you.” He wrapped his arms around her. “But I don’t because you illogically believe your lies and deception are necessary to keep others safe.” He kissed the top of her head, his words and actions soothing some of her pain. “You’re also no longer human. My nanocybotics have changed you. And you’re mine.”

  “So you don’t”—s
he hiccupped—“hate me?”

  “I don’t hate you.” Her cyborg hugged her close to his hard body. “I do hate the human you trapped. I plan to jettison him into open space, along with the males in the other three cages.”

  He said that with a scary lack of emotion.

  “You can’t do that, sir.” She frowned up at him. “I promised them they wouldn’t be harmed.”

  “They would harm you.” He snorted. “Without hesitation.”

  They would do that. She had heard their terrible comments. “Promise me we’ll unload them alive on Vega R.”

  His lips flattened.

  “I don’t want to be responsible for their deaths, sir.” That would change her, make her hard, and she didn’t want that.

  He gazed at her. She gazed back at him.

  “Please, sir?” It was important to her.

  He released a deep breath. “If it is at all feasible, we’ll unload them alive on Vega R.” He conceded to her request.

  Her cyborg didn’t realize he’d be unloaded on the planet also. Pangs of guilt jabbed her heart.

  “Thank you, sir.” She kissed his square chin.

  Chuckles was a good male, an honorable being. And he was right about her—she was lying and deceitful. She knew no other way to protect him while keeping her promises to Smarts and the rest of the team.

  After they reached the planet, he would hate her. Until then, she would savor every moment they had together, tucking those memories away to combat the loneliness she’d soon experience.

  She hoped that would be enough to sustain her.

  Chapter Nine

  Five planet rotations later, Chuckles’ lap was filled with lush female and he had a clear visual of their destination. The image of Vega R on the main viewscreen was small yet detectable with his enhanced senses.

  The first part of their voyage was drawing to an end. In less than two planet rotations, they would unload the disreputable beings in the holding chamber.

  He could then return with his female to the Reckless.

  She would be both better protected and better guarded on the cyborg ship. His stubborn little human would still attempt to escape. He processed that. And his brethren would mock him when that happened.

  He could tolerate that. Her safety was more important than his pride.

  Chuckles carefully cut a nourishment bar into tiny human-sized pieces. “Open your mouth, baby.”

  She complied, parting her lips. That sight hardened his cock.

  Ignoring his inappropriate arousal, he popped a piece of nourishment bar into her mouth. Feeding his female took precedent over breeding. She wouldn’t endure damage while he cared for her.

  And he would always care for her. He wasn’t ever allowing his fragile little human outside his monitoring range. She was a menace to herself and to the universe.

  As his female chewed, she continued to apply sparkle to every exposed stretch of her pale skin. Her blue-and-pink hair was displayed in an arch on top of her beautiful head, eight bundles of her curls constrained by fluffy blue fasteners.

  Her flight suit and boots matched the fasteners. Her garment was undone to her stomach, her lush breasts a jiggle away from freedom.

  She might be a danger to everyone around her, but she was a pretty danger. He gazed at her, proud that she was his, his to feed, his to protect, his to reprimand.

  Those reprimands were delivered multiple times a planet rotation. His handprint was a regular brand on her fine ass.

  She was behaving at the moment, which made him suspect she was plotting something. He held another piece of the nourishment bar to her lips.

  She opened for him without protest, without hesitation. That wasn’t like her. He fed his female, his suspicions compounding.

  She required someone to look after her, to guard her, to stop her from doing whatever she was planning to do. The action she was proposing might include leaving him. That prospect sliced through his soul.

  He wouldn’t allow that. She belonged to him.

  “How do I look, sir?” She gazed up at him as though seeking his approval.

  His female sought to look pretty for him and he took that honor seriously. He perused her from the top of her vividly colored head to the tip of her brightly hued boots.

  “You missed a spot here.” He grazed his fingertips along the skin at the base of her neck, savoring her softness.

  “Oh, no.” She hastily dabbed sparkle on that part of her. “Is that better, sir?”

  “That’s much better.” He pressed his lips against her forehead, tasting salt and female along with some sparkle. “You’re beautiful, baby.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She beamed at him.

  Chuckles blinked, dazzled by her smile.

  She was a bad, bad female and he had to be constantly vigilant around her. Outmaneuvering her plotting required recurrent usage of his processors.

  But there was no other being in the universe like his little human. She shone brighter than any star, made him feel powerful and whole.

  Even his malfunctioning knee ached less when he was with her. Every breeding decreased his pain. With his female, he was stronger, faster.

  He was never letting her go.

  She wiggled against him, that motion teasing his already hard body armor-covered cock. “Ummm…”

  Something was damaging her. Was it him?

  “Speak.” He braced himself for her reply.

  If it was possible to repair her, he would.

  “It has been a while since I spoke with my dad.” She looked up at him, her eyes wide with pleading. “He’ll be worried about me.”

  That was a lie. She was worried about her dad, not the other way around. Grooves bracketed her lips, furrowed her forehead.

  “You’re not speaking with your dad without me by your side.” Chuckles wouldn’t give her that opportunity to signal for help, to instigate a rescue by her malfunctioning parent and his friend.

  “Of course I wouldn’t speak to him without you by my side, sir.” Her surprise appeared genuine. “He’ll want to meet you.”

  That was another lie. His lips flattened. He had captured the human male’s daughter and he was a cyborg, an entity most of his kind considered to be a killing machine. Her dad would not want to meet him.

  But he would have to virtually meet Chuckles…if the male wanted to speak with his daughter.

  “Communicate with him.” Chuckles wrapped his arms around his female.

  Not communicating with her dad was emotionally damaging her. To repair his little human, he would face her parent, deal with the male’s hatred.

  Fraggin’ hole. His muscles flexed. This would be painful.

  His female tapped on the private viewscreen embedded in the console. He traced the transmission. It flowed to the same location as her previous communication with her dad. She hadn’t tried to deceive him.

  “I said I was getting it. You don’t have to yell.” Her dad’s voice was audible before the image appeared.

  “If you wait too long, she’ll think you’re not there and we’ll never hear from her again.” The friend, Duggar, grumbled.

  “We’ll hear from her.” The back of the dad’s head appeared on the main viewscreen. His hair was devoid of pigment and extremely damaged, the few strands he had left barely covering his scalp. “Bett Bits isn’t as impatient as you are.”

  “I’m not impatient.” Lying must have been part of his female’s training. Because Duggar had the ability to fabricate untruths also.

  Her dad turned his head and squinted at the viewscreen, his eyes more damaged than his hair. “Duggar was worried about you, Bett Bits.”

  “Was not.” The friend yelled from offscreen.

  “There’s no need for either of you to worry.” Chuckles’ female glowed. “I’m fine.”

  She felt the human love emotion for both of the males. Chuckles ruthlessly quashed his envy. That reaction was unworthy of a warrior.

  “I’d like you to meet
Chuckles.” She grasped his hand. Her fingers trembled. That was how important the introduction was for her. “He’s my male.”

  He was her male. His spine straightened. She had publicly claimed him.

  “Chuckles? What kind of name is that?” Duggar was the first to find fault with him.

  “It isn’t any more unusual than a miner, a male who digs, calling himself Duggar.” The dad defended him. “Put him on the transmission, Bett Bits. I want to meet your Chuckles.”

  “I am on the transmission…sir.” Chuckles added that relay of respect. The parent of his female warranted it.

  The male leaned closer to the viewscreen, trying to compensate for the damage to his visual system. Judging by how the creases on his pale face had multiplied, that tactic was ineffective.

  Chuckles lacked his female’s bright colors. His hair was black, his skin gray. The dad couldn’t see him.

  That might be the best situation. If the dad couldn’t see him, he couldn’t identify Chuckles as a cyborg, was less likely to disapprove of him.

  “Let me look at him, you half-blind rock fragment.” Duggar’s equally weathered face filled the viewscreen. That man could see him. His eyes widened slightly and then narrowed.

  Chuckles squared his shoulders, preparing himself for the spewing of hatred.

  “He’s a big bastard.” The friend scowled. “But he’s too thin. I’ll have to fabricate nourishment many planet rotations in advance of when she brings him home.”

  Chuckles stared at the male. That was what concerned the friend—his lack of body fat?

  “I didn’t say I was bringing Chuckles home.” His female glanced over her shoulder at him, her eyes reflecting her concern. “I never said that, sir. Duggar is making assumptions.”

  “Duggar’s assumptions are correct.” Chuckles frowned at her. “If you go to your home, I go to your home.” He wasn’t leaving her side.

  “Come home soon.” Duggar gave them that order. “Or you’ll both waste away to nothing.” The friend’s stance was unnaturally stiff. He was even more damaged than Chuckles was. “Judging by the pigment on your lips, the two of you have been doing more kissing than eating.”

  Chuckles glanced at his reflection in a shiny strip of metal around the perimeter of the console. He didn’t have pigment on his lips.