I’ve been sharing the first few scenes of Releasing Rage.
You can read the previous scenes here: http://tasteofcyn.com/2015/07/28/releasing-rage-chapter-one-part-one/
Here is the third and final part of chapter one.
He grunted. “Then clean me from the top of my head downward, little engineer.” She approached him. “You’re too small to reach,” he advised her unnecessarily. “Use the elevation platform.”
That placed her breasts at his eye level. Joan trembled as she massaged his scarred scalp with the cleaning cloth, purifying each strand of hair. It was an intimate act. His long straight locks were decadently soft. His hot breath wafted over her skin.
“Did they give my little engineer breeding drugs?” His tone was mocking. “I smell her arousal.” He inhaled deeply, his nostrils flaring.
“C models were designed to reproduce.” Joan swiped the cloth over his broad forehead. That skin was also crisscrossed with old scars. How many times had he been experimented on? “Everything about you, from your deepened voice to your enhanced pheromones, was modified to maximize your appeal to females.”
“It appeals to cyborg females.” His lips twisted. “They have no effect on, other than to frighten, human females.”
“And you’re an expert on human females,” she mumbled, dabbing the cloth carefully over the more delicate skin around his brilliant blue eyes. His model number was inked below his right eye. Joan traced the mark with her fingertips.
“I was forced to breed with twenty-two human females, one hundred and fifteen cyborg females, before the program was deemed a failure.” He watched her.
“They forced you to breed with strangers?” Joan stared at him, horrified.
“If you truly served me, you’d show me respect and call me sir.”
He was an obstinate cyborg. She suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. “They forced you to breed with strangers, sir?”
“The breeding didn’t result in offspring.” There was no emotion in his reply. “A cyborg’s nanocybotics views a fertilized egg as a damaged egg and repairs it.”
“I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what to say, what to do to make that right.
He lifted one eyebrow.
“Sir,” she amended.
C899321’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “I’ve survived worse, little engineer. Save your pity for the human females.” He blew over her nipples, knowing damn well what he was doing to her. “They had to breed with a primitive cyborg, tolerate my touch. Even with the breeding drugs, they weren’t as aroused as you are right now.”
She had to get her attraction to him under control. Joan scrubbed harder, rubbing the cleaning cloth over his grooved cheeks, his flattened nose, his full sensual lips. “I’m caring for you because this is my duty, sir.” This reminder was more for herself than for him. “This is what I’ve trained my entire life to do.”
He opened his mouth. She chattered about nonsense, not allowing the cyborg to speak, to use that sexy voice of his against her.
As she told him about the agri lot she grew up on, the solar cycles spent as a ward, the courses she mastered at the Academy, Joan explored the squareness of his jaw, his compact neck, wide shoulders, sculpted biceps, pecs, abs. He had lived longer than many humans and had scars that made her cringe, yet was a prime male specimen, fit, strong, virile.
She progressed downward. “What happened here, sir?” She touched the dozens of lighter nicks of skin over his stomach, having seen similar marks on his face and chest. “These are fresh.” They’d occurred more recently than his scars and had completely healed. “But they’re not battle wounds.”
He didn’t answer.
She gazed upward. His face was hard, his anger returning.
Joan caressed his hips with the cloth. The nearer she moved to his cock, the more concentrated the marks became. She paused when she reached his base. She had cleaned plenty of mock cyborgs at the academy but this was different. This cock was attached to a real male.
“You’re to clean all of me.” C899321 pushed his hips forward, thrusting his shaft toward her. “Must I do your job for you, female?”
“No, sir.” Joan jutted her jaw. “I can do this. It’s like cleaning a female bovine’s teat.” She folded the cloth around him.
“I’m a cyborg, not an animal.”
“We’re all animals, sir.” She stroked him once, twice. His cock was thick and long and had an interesting ridge. As the blood disappeared, she realized that the ridge was another scar. “They experimented on your cock?”
“They removed one of my balls.” His voice deepened even more.
Shit. She cupped his sac, having avoided looking directly at this private part of him. He was right. One ball had been severed.
“What was the point of that?” Her outrage grew. “They could have taken a seminal fluid sample without removing a testicle.”
“They wanted to see if the nanocybotics would repair it.”
“A tiny portion would have shown them that.” She no longer wondered why he was so angry. She wondered why more humans hadn’t died.
Because his torture hadn’t ended with the experiments. His shaft and sac were also striped with nicks. “Did my predecessor make these fresh wounds, sir?” Joan caressed him with the cloth. A bead of pre-cum formed on his tip and she cleaned that too, poking into his slit.
He grunted, not answering her question.
She gazed at his cock. He remained hard. When the bovines weren’t milked regularly, their teats would swell and crack, and the animals would then bellow with agony, the sound twisting her heart.
She didn’t want C899321 to endure more pain.
“I could…ummm…finish you, sir.” She couldn’t look at him while she said this.
“Finish me?”
She waved at his cock. “I could milk you with my hands, release the tension.”
A long nerve-racking pause followed her embarrassing offer.
She peeked up at him. He stared down at her, his eyes sparking with emotion.
“Sir?”
He shook his head, his long hair, now dry, brushing against his broad face. “Finish cleaning me, female. You can milk me like one of your beloved bovines later,” he promised as though that was a treat he was granting her.
“My offer benefited you, not me,” Joan muttered.
She glided the cloth over his thighs, knees, shins, catching the drips on his feet. He then turned and she repeated the process, moving downward, learning the breadth of his shoulders, the small of his back, the indents in his ass cheeks.
He couldn’t watch her and that made it easier to clean between them. The nicks deepened into gouges around his puckered hole.
“He violated you, sir?” That was outside her realm of understanding. Caring for a cyborg was a trusted duty, one half of a partnership. “If you hadn’t already terminated him, I would have.”
“He was one of your kind.” The cyborg didn’t believe her. “You would have joined in or done worse.”
“You don’t know me.” She snapped the cloth, ensuring it had renewed fully, and cleaned his thighs and calves. “I should report him.”
“He’s dead. What purpose would that serve?”
It wouldn’t serve any purpose, other than embarrass the engineer’s family. “You should have justice, sir.” She scrubbed his heels.
He turned, pushing her away from him. “I took my own justice.” He backed into the docking station. His cock remained hard, jutting from his hairless base. “As I’ll take my own justice when you harm me.”
She shivered, his tone telling her he wouldn’t hesitate to kill her. “I’d never harm you, sir.” A cleaning bot rolled between her bare feet, sucking up the spilled blood. Would it be her blood it cleaned in the future?
“Kneel before me,” the cyborg ordered.
She obeyed, gazing up at him. His eyes blazed, reflecting lust, triumph, a hint of cruelty. The cyborg enjoyed having her at his mercy.
And she liked following his commands…a little too much.
“Put those agri skills to work and milk me, female.”
“My name is Joan, sir.” If he planned to kill her, he should know that. She ran her hands over him from base to tip and back again. He was soft skin over hard metal, ridged with the scar, smooth at his bloomed cock head, his shaft slick, self-lubricating. “You’re C899321.”
“You’ll call me sir.” He grunted, swaying into her fingers.
“You’re in pain, sir.” This was a kindness, not a sexual favor, she told herself.
Joan skimmed her fingertips over his solitary ball. He quivered, unable to hold back his reaction to her touch.
She’d give him relief and he’d feel grateful to her. Gratitude would lead to trust.
Joan stroked his shaft, formulating a plan.
“That’s it, female. Touch me with those delicate human hands.” He moved faster against her, animalistic noises coming from his throat, raw and fierce. “Show me how you can serve me.”
“I will, sir.” She’d show him and he’d decide to keep her, allow her to live. This hand job could delay her death for a planet rotation or a solar cycle or permanently.
Joan tightened her grip, increasing the friction, and his cock bobbed with appreciation. “You’ll never wish for another engineer.”
“I don’t need an engineer.” The skin on his face pulled tight, his lips flattening. “That’s why I killed the last one.”
No, he killed the engineer because the human hurt him, tortured him. He wasn’t a bad being. She worked him with everything she had, with all the experience she’d gathered over the solar cycles, all the passion in her lonely, neglected heart. Her breasts jiggled with her efforts. Her knees protested their contact with the hard floor.
It wasn’t enough for him. He covered her hands with his, guiding her up and down, up and down his shaft, his ball slapping against her fingers. “Frag.” His voice reached deep inside her. “Frag. Frag.” He sounded desperate. “Make me come, female.”
She slipped one of her hands away from his, folded her fingers over his sac and squeezed. He roared, driving his hips forward, pushing her backward. Cum arced from his tip, splattered on her breasts, and she screamed with ecstasy, her pussy clenching around nothing.
The sensation was unlike anything she’d ever experienced, his essence warming, tingling, pinching, a thousand bubbles bursting over her skin. It was too much, too good.
“Need. Relief.” She reached to wipe his cum off her breasts.
“No.” C899321 caught her wrists, preventing her from removing his savage branding. She twisted, writhed, whimpering, trying to free herself, light and sound blurring.
It was several moments before her rational thought returned.
“What was that, sir?” She slumped against his legs, worn out by pleasure.
“My nanocybotics.” He released her wrists. “They’re concentrated in my cum and, to a lesser extent, my saliva. Your skin will absorb them. Until I give you permission to move, stay where you are and don’t touch them.”
Joan gazed up at him, blinking, her mind numb. He wanted to mark her.
It was the primitive action of a primitive male.
And she had no objections.
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Half Man. Half Machine. All Hers.
Rage, the Humanoid Alliance’s most primitive cyborg, has two goals—kill all of the humans on his battle station and escape to the Homeland. The warrior has seen the darkness in others and in himself. He believes that’s all he’s been programmed to experience.
Until he meets Joan.
Joan, the battle station’s first female engineer, has one goal—survive long enough to help the big sexy cyborg plotting to kill her. Rage might not trust her but he wants her. She sees the passion in his eyes, the caring in his battle-worn hands, the gruff emotion in his voice.
When Joan survives the unthinkable, Rage’s priorities are tested. Is there enough room in this cyborg’s heart for both love and revenge?
Buy Now:
On Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/Releasing-Rage-Cyborg-Sizzle-Book-ebook/dp/B00ZOL1DRO
On ARe: https://www.allromanceebooks.com/product-releasingrage-1850041-340.html
On B&N: http://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/releasing-rage-cynthia-sax/1122455646
