Lady Luck Read online

  God. I need her closer. Not just because I want to stick both my cocks inside her and get the double ejaculation over with, but so I can cover her mouth with my hand and make her shut up.

  But I rally. Because I don’t want her to know how much she gets to me. “Sit down, princess. I’ll show you what foreplay is.”

  She takes two steps forward, so her pussy is right over my mouth, grins, eyes shining with evil intentions, then lowers herself so she’s sitting on my chest. She places both hands on my rough, stubbled cheeks and presses her tits into my chin. Staring down into my soul.

  We share a moment then.

  I wait for her to scoot forward and place her pussy over my mouth so I can eat her out. But she doesn’t move. Just continues to stare at me.

  “What the fuck?” I ask. “What the fuck are you doing?”

  “I’m trying to see if there’s anything inside that idiot head of yours worth appealing to.”

  “Appealing to? Now what?” I growl. “Can’t we just fuck and get this over with?”

  “That would be giving you what you want, Luck. What about what I want?”

  “What the fuck do you want?”

  “I have decided that I want to hunt people down and kill them. Veila, specifically, but I’m not that picky. That’s my new job.”

  “You want to be a mercenary?” I ask.

  “No. I just want to kill people for personal reasons. I want to get my own ship, leave this place, and go hunting for all the assholes who fucked me over. I want to—what are you doing?”

  “What?”

  “Why is your finger in my asshole?”

  “Because we’re having sex,” I deadpan. “And that’s one of the places fingers go.”

  “I’m trying to have a serious conversation.”

  “Yeah. I know.” I huff. “That’s something we don’t do. I’ve told you that over and over again. Now shut up and fuck me so I can get back to my regularly-scheduled life.”

  She opens her mouth. Probably to call me an asshole. But I’m done playing around. I wrap my arms around her, flip her over on her back, and mount her. Both of my stiff, hard cocks pressing forward into her hot, wet pussy.

  CHAPTER TWO - NYLEENA

  There are a lot of things to hate about Luck. He’s an arrogant prick. He’s not all that smart compared to his brothers. And he’s mean. Like really fucking mean.

  It’s not that he flips me over and starts to fuck me without even asking. It’s that, once again, he cuts me off mid-sentence.

  I hate this habit of his with a fiery, infernal passion.

  It makes me want to teach him a lesson. It makes me want to push him off me, slap his face, rip his balls off, and stuff them down his throat.

  But… “Oh,” I moan, unable to control my building excitement. He feels so good. It’s like his damn cocks were made just for me. The two of them together are the perfect girth to stretch me wide and push all my magic pussy buttons.

  He begins to nibble my ear and that sends a flood of chills up and down my spine. But the chill he inspires inside me doesn’t stay there. It radiates out to my limbs until my whole body is buzzing and tingling with erotic excitement.

  He thrusts forward, grunting in my ear. And even though just last week that sound was infuriating and kind of disgusting to the point of distraction… this week it’s something else.

  “Fuck me,” I growl.

  It’s… kinda hot.

  He thrusts forward again, harder this time. He grips my face as his mouth lowers onto mine. We don’t kiss a lot during sex. But when we do…

  “Ohhhhh,” I moan past his lips.

  When we do it’s exhilarating. Maybe even slightly… passionate.

  The only thing I hate more about Luck than the fact that we’re forced to fuck every day to keep our sanity is his lack of dirty talk.

  He refuses to talk to me or let me talk to him.

  That makes me ragey. Because dirty talk is my favorite and he won’t engage.

  But one of these days…

  “Come,” he commands me.

  “Are you kidding?” I ask. “We just started.”

  He slaps his hand over my mouth and the rage that was only imaginary two seconds ago manifests in all its glorious reality when I wrap my legs around his middle and squeeze him so tight with my thighs, he gasps.

  Take that, asshole.

  He glares at me, momentarily distracted. And I use that distraction to my advantage by twisting my body and flipping him over so he’s on his back.

  He’s still inside me, the heads of both his cocks swollen in place. Locking us together until we come and relieve the lust hidden deep inside our genetically-matched souls.

  My tits bounce on his chest and he grabs my hair, shoots me a warning glare.

  I know what that glare says. Don’t make me bleed, Nyleena.

  He shoots this look at me every time, and every time I take it as a challenge.

  I raise my hand up.

  “Don’t,” he growls.

  “Oh,” I say. “He can speak. Tell me more,” I purr.

  “Do not—”

  But I do it anyway.

  I swipe my nails right down the side of his cheek and hiss at him like a feral cat.

  He wraps his muscled arms around my upper body, squeezing me tight as he pulls me down on to his chest.

  I’ll admit, Luck is strong. And when he gets me in a lock like this, there’s no way I can escape until he lets me.

  But I don’t make it easy.

  I squirm and twist in his grip. All the while his hips are thrusting up with powerful force. So hard that his balls are slapping against my clit.

  This momentarily takes my mind off the forced submission and I float a little.

  “Come,” he commands again, growling out the word in my ear. “Right. Fucking—”

  I do.

  I come.

  The light locked up inside me pulses out in flickering waves at first. And then it stops just as his cocks contract inside me. My luminous flux holds steady for a moment so when his contractions are over, and his sperm is ready to explode into me, my flux knows what to do and it bursts into fractals of geometrically-shaped light that dance and crackle around our bodies. Electrifying them like charged ions flowing out from a sun on a matrix of deep, dark space-time.

  He throws me over to the side, his cocks slipping out of me, dripping with our shared release, and breathes hard and heavy.

  I lie there with eyes closed. Not caring that he just literally threw me away.

  Because this is the best part.

  I wait for him to tuck his dicks away, mumble out, “Thank you,” as he walks off and leaves me alone.

  And then… I let out the last of my climax.

  Because I never give him all of me.

  I have one little hidden, secret surprise that he will never know about.

  I open my eyes and come for real. Silver-laced lavender light shoots up and out, bouncing off the UV reflectors above the grass and flowers, and comes back down to blanket my body, and this entire secret garden, in a soft, purple glow.

  And all the plants around me grow ten times taller from my sexy, lust-filled, nutritious light.

  When I wake up I have no idea what time it is.

  I almost always sleep after sex with Luck. It’s not like I have anything better to do.

  He’s right about that job. About me not having one, at least. Because I am so fucking bored on this station.

  Luck always walks out after he’s done. Always says, “Thank you,” but it’s always derogatory.

  I don’t care.

  He always misses the best part of me. He’s never experienced my real release. Never seen the plants grow tall. He has no clue who I am.

  We never use the same secret garden twice. He’s got us on this insane rotation schedule. Says it’s part of some protocol Real ALCOR gave him back when he was a kid. No one can get suspicious about the secret gardens or people will start hangin
g out here. Start having secret trysts like us.

  Which I do not care about at all.

  In fact, maybe I’ll make up a virtual poster today and send out a map to all the secret gardens I know about.

  Wouldn’t that piss him off?

  I sigh and smile, allowing myself to be content for just another minute.

  But then the smile fades. Because I am so bored. It’s late afternoon now. I only just woke up a few hours ago so there’s a whole evening and night ahead of me.

  I’m sick of getting drunk. I’m sick of fighting. I’m sick of everything here.

  I want to be free. I want to go somewhere. And I want to kill people.

  Not these people. I don’t have enough hate saved up inside me to bother with anyone here. Not even for Luck.

  And that whole job thing he mentioned yesterday. He said I was the only person on Harem who didn’t pull their weight.

  And that kinda pissed me off, if I’m being honest.

  Because I do have a job. I’m a fucking bomb. I’m an explosion waiting to happen. It’s not my fault they don’t want to detonate me. Right?

  That’s how I see it.

  But it would be nice to have another purpose. So I think about this for a while.

  What could I do? How could I fill my endless hours of boredom?

  I list my skills and come up with… well, I’m not good for much. Mostly just looking good while killing people.

  And fighting. I’m pretty good at pissing people off to the point where they want to try to kick my ass.

  There’s a lot of fighting here on Harem Station. Pretty much everyone is an explosion waiting to happen. Not literally, like me, of course.

  But the only jobs I can think of that could use my mad combat skills here on Harem are gladiator fighter and maybe… I could enroll in security academy.

  I already volunteered to go hunt down Veila for them. Kill that fucking bitch. That’s what I really want to do. But everyone said no. Even fucking Lyra said no.

  Who are these people to tell me what I can and can’t do, anyway?

  I sit up, pull out a disposable wet-wipe from my boot and clean off the remnants of Luck’s come, then refasten the sticky tabs of my bodysuit and get to my feet.

  And it hits me. Yeah. I will get a job, asshole.

  I’m gonna get a ship so I can go hunt Veila on my own. Veila and everyone else who ever crossed me is dead. When I told Luck that I wanted a ship I was sorta joking. I was fuming about being stuck here when I walked in and that declaration just spilled out of my mouth.

  But you know what? I do want a ship so I’m gonna march up to that fucking harem room. And I’m gonna point my lavender-tipped fingernail in Crux’s face. And I’m gonna tell him what’s what. I’m gonna make them take me on that Veila hunt.

  And if he says no I’ll… I’ll steal a ship.

  No. I’ll steal Luck’s ship.

  Ha!

  Lady fucking Luck.

  I will not be fucked with. I will not be trifled with. I will not be forced into some… menial servitude job here on Harem. I will not end up some joke in a gladiator fight or arresting bots and bastards who break rules.

  I toss my disposable wipe into the recycle tube as I exit the secret garden, casting one last glance over my shoulder to look at the towering plants I made grow, and then smile.

  I’ve got it all figured out.

  CHAPTER THREE - LUCK

  I feel better after the fucking.

  Mostly.

  At least I’m good on the sex part of my general malaise for another twenty-four hours.

  But there’s something else that’s been bothering me for a long time now.

  Valor.

  See, Valor and I have been partners forever. Ever since we left Wayward Station as teenagers we’ve been a team.

  Then we got gifted Beauty, our amazing bot. And we only got tighter after that. Valor, Beauty, and me were a tight little crew.

  And then we got Lady Luck as our ship and it all seemed so… settled.

  So perfect.

  Until Beauty sacrificed herself to help blow up that Cygnian warship out at the Battle of Bull Station and everything changed overnight.

  Valor lost interest in salvaging. That’s our job for ALCOR. Or it was, before everything changed. Because Real ALCOR blew up with Beauty and now we’re stuck with the Baby ALCOR copy running the station and the Asshole ALCOR copy, locked up inside the Pleasure Prison with our new AI, Succubus. She was a gift from Mighty Boss himself after the other shit-show we had involving Mighty Minions Resort and the Loathsome One’s Lair.

  Now all Valor wants to do is work with Tray in the Pleasure Prison control room.

  Which, for sure, is an important job. We have millions of people in that sexy virtual adventure game at any one time. Which means we have millions of unconscious bodies in various gaming pods at any one time too.

  It’s a huge responsibility.

  But come on. Valor comes from a military family. His father was some hotshot general back on Wayward Station. He’s a commander, for fuck’s sake. Not a body babysitter.

  And he just handed Lady Luck over to me when I hired Xyla’s ex-sexbot friend, Cha-Cha, to be our new partner.

  I get it. Beauty was like a little sister to us. We did everything together. You might even say we were our own little family unit. And she had our backs one hundred percent.

  But she’s gone. Just like Real ALCOR is gone. He accepted the Baby ALCOR just fine, but Cha-Cha?

  Nooooo. He refuses to even nod hello in her general direction.

  I miss Beauty too. But we can’t just stop living our lives.

  Right?

  Draden’s dead. And Ceres. And Serpint moved on. He’s got Lyra now. And that stupid nannybot, Prince. He only stayed on Harem because Booty was trying to find herself inside the Pleasure Prison, but now she’s back in her ship body where she belongs so I bet Serpint and Lyra are all gearing up for the next trip.

  Does rationalizing this make me a dick? Should I still be mourning for Beauty?

  But if I didn’t leave with Chach and Lady Luck, then Jimmy and Delphi would probably be dead. And we’d have no Succubus reining in the Asshole ALCOR. Not to mention all the Akeelian boys we saved from the Loathsome Lair.

  If Cha-Cha and I hadn’t shown up to help Dicker and Jimmy so many people would still be stuck in that disgusting breeding program. And most of them were kids.

  So see? It was fate. I did what I was supposed to.

  Still. I miss him. Valor has been my rock for too long not to miss him when he’s not by my side.

  I was going to go hang out with Chach after my regularly scheduled tryst with Nyleena, but instead I head for the Pleasure Prison control room to try to maybe have a conversation about this with Valor.

  The Pleasure Prison takes up twenty whole levels at the very top of the station, just below the princess harem and our living quarters. It’s mostly filled with gaming pods and servers powered by ALCOR.

  Well, the Baby ALCOR now. That transition was a whole other level of shit show after Real ALCOR died. The Baby was OK to run things for short periods of time but when Real ALCOR didn’t come back he dropped the ball. Many times.

  People died. Lots of people died. Most of them were in the virtual pods when that happened. But we had some atmosphere issues too.

  It was bad.

  So the new rule is that Baby ALCOR still runs the Pleasure Prison but there has to be an organic humanoid in the control room at all times just in case.

  Tray spends most of his time inside the virtual. He’s in there several hours a day taking care of shit that needs to be programmed on the inside.

  I think it’s a mistake to be able to make changes to the virtual environment from inside the program, but Tray has been doing that for so long we’d have to shut down whole sectors of the Pleasure Prison for months to take the code out and put it on an exterior server now. And that would cost us untold billions in credits, since the Ple
asure Prison is pretty much the main draw here at Harem.

  Aside from the princess harem, of course. But very few people can afford a real princess from our harem. We do have many virtual princess harems inside the Prison though.

  Whatever. Tray is the king of that kingdom. He can run it however he wants.

  So that’s where Valor comes in. He’s one of the organic humanoids in the control room now. Every spin, for several hours at a time, he’s in charge of monitoring more than a million gaming pods.

  Which, like I said. Super-important job.

  It’s just not his job.

  His job is with me. Hunting down ancient AI parts in the farthest reaches of the galaxy and bringing them back here to keep Baby ALCOR running smoothly.

  And, can I just say, that’s an even more super-important job than the gaming pods? Right?

  Right.

  For a game that takes up twenty levels in servers and has an almost infinite boundary once you’re inside the virtual, the control room is actually really small.

  It’s a circle of monitors. Like eleventy-billion split-screen monitors that line the walls and just one control seat. In the center of the small space is Tray’s gaming pod.

  When I enter he’s in there. I can tell because the lid is closed and the glass is all fogged up from his breathing.

  Valor is sitting at the one control seat, sipping coffee. He does half a spin in his chair, sees me, nods his chin in my direction, then turns back to the monitors.

  There’s one big screen directly in front of him that just runs medical stats. All the health statuses of the players are ranked in order of who needs immediate attention. Those in red need to be woken up by medical bots and pulled out.

  We don’t have any listed at the moment.

  There’s a few pod ID’s lit up in yellow, meaning they might need attention soon, but not yet. We only have about half a dozen of those at the moment.

  All the rest are green, indicating everyone’s having a good sexy time in there and no one is about to die in the real.

  “You need something?” Valor asks, not even bothering to look at me.