Page 4 of Journey to the Forbidden Zone

“Let me offer you some friendly advice, Díaz,” he said, his words knives. “The Belt’s no place for a crew on the skids. Especially not with debts to pay and enemies like yours. You should have stayed on that rock.”

Was he threatening her? She doubted it. He was a pin-dick misogynist who couldn’t stand to have his prowess challenged.And like most of his ilk, his comebacks were as limp as his manhood.

“Aw, but you’d have missed me, then,” Carmen said, unable to resist needling him further. “This way you get to see what you’ll never have.”

She turned and sauntered away from him, making certain to swing her ass as she went.

“Try not to get spaced on your garbage haul, Díaz,” he shouted after her.

Despite knowing she’d gotten the better of him, Carmen trembled with pure, impotent rage. She could still smell his cologne. Hear his laughter. See the contempt in his eyes as he flashed his wealth at her. He’d witnessed her lowest point, her utter defeat, and he’d reveled in it.

The noise of the cantina crashed back in, louder than before. The weight of the datapad in her pocket felt like a stone. Coffee. Humiliation. Failure.

And Corso’s shit-eating grin burned into her retinas.

She walked faster, her boots striking the deck with sharp, angry clicks. Norvik kept pace silently. They needed to get back to theAntilles. They had a suicide run to prepare for.

And she had to tell her crew she’d failed them. Again.

CHAPTER 2

Carmen’sback arched off the thin mattress, her fingers tangled in the long braids of Letitia’s hair, guiding her head down. Sweat pooled in the hollow of her throat, traced the curve of her spine where it pressed against rumpled sheets. Her dark, kinky hair spilled loose across the pillow, curling against her soft-brown skin. Letitia’s mouth was hot against her, tongue working with focused intensity, and Carmen’s grip tightened, holding her exactly where she needed her.

“Lower,” Carmen gasped, the word sharp, a command not a plea.

Sweat slicked her skin where their bodies pressed together, her thighs resting on Letitia’s dark shoulders. Her braids fell forward, the intricate strands brushing against Carmen’s belly, her hips.

“Use your tongue.”

“Yes, Captain,” Letitia replied, a wicked glint in her brown eyes, as she deliberately used Carmen’s title to imply control.

Carmen sighed as Letitia moved her mouth with warm, wet precision over her folds. Carmen’s grip tightened, holding her exactly where she needed her, controlling the angle, the pressure. This was the only place she didn’t have to think tenmoves ahead – here, in the narrow burn of pleasure building in her core, with the thrum ofAntilles’s aging engines rumbling through the bulkhead, and her weapons officer’s eager mouth between her thighs. Here, she could surrender to nothing but flesh and friction and the exquisite relief of her own body obeying her will.

“Faster,” Carmen breathed, her hips lifting, meeting the rhythm she demanded.

The coil of tension deep in her belly tightened, a delicious counterpoint to the chaos outside this room, the memory of Maltese’s greasy smile, the humiliating low-end job, the confrontation with Corso. Here, she wasn’t the captain failing her crew; she was the center of gravity, demanding exactly what she needed and getting it.

Letitia moaned against her, the vibration sending shivers up Carmen’s spine. Her fingers dug into the soft flesh of Letitia’s shoulder, marking her, claiming this moment, this release. The heat built, a focused, white point of intensity like the glow of a solar flare. She was close, fire licking across every nerve-ending. She could feel Letitia’s smile against her, sense the pride in the way she doubled down.

Then Letitia shifted. Her hand slid up Carmen’s inner thigh, fingers trailing higher with clear intent, moving toward penetration without being told to.

“No!”

Carmen’s voice cracked like a whip. Her hand shot down, catching Letitia’s wrist, stopping her.

“I didn’t tell you to do that.”

Letitia pulled back just enough to look up, her dark-brown eyes liquid in the dim light, her lips glistening against her deep-umber skin.

“I know what you like,” she said softly, her voice carrying that particular note of devotion that made Carmen’s chest tighten uncomfortably. “Let me?—”

“Did I ask?” she snapped, cutting her off.

Carmen flexed her fingers in Letitia’s hair, pulling her back down with controlled force.

“Use your mouth. Just your mouth.”

For a fraction of a second, something flickered across Letitia’s face – hurt, maybe, or frustration. But she obeyed. She always obeyed.