Chapter Twenty-one

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

THERE WERE MORE eggs in Angela that morning, and Luther wasn't sure how he felt about it, now that he didn't have an erection. But after the laying session—seriously, so fucking hot for whatever reason—he'd been eager to give her more, and she'd been shy and sweet and panting, her pussy wet and her eyes half-lidded as she traced little patterns over the rough skin on his bicep. She'd take his eggs again, yes, of course, please. Fill me up, Luther, she sighed.

So, he had.

Too many, probably.

They hadn't counted, but more, he knew that.

He was looking forward to her expulsion of the eggs, to watching her squeeze each and every one of them back out of that pretty pussy of hers.

He was thinking about other things they could do. While she'd been laying, and he'd had his cock nudged between the cheeks of her ass, he'd wondered… could he put his stinger all the way deep into her pussy and fuck her other hole with his penis? Would she be into that? He wanted to try it, he thought, if she would. He was pretty good at talking her into shit, too. He remembered feeling ashamed of that, only yesterday.

That feeling was less today.

He nuzzled the back of her neck, and she sighed and squirmed against him, picking up his hand and guiding it to her stretched and swollen belly.

He remembered praising her as he expelled egg after egg into her, telling her what a good job she was doing, taking so many of his eggs, how pretty she looked stretched and full of them, how much he liked it.

She had sighed and moaned and come on his stinger and his cock and asked for more, please more, saying it felt so good.

Was this all there would be, then? Just this, eggs in and eggs out, and everything dissolving in the haze of sex and arousal?

Maybe he wouldn't mind.

But there was still that panic, that worry, and he resolved that—during the meeting later that day—with Riley and Jonathan, that they'd at least address the future. He wondered if they'd all be too distracted by the sex stuff, though.

How many eggs had been in Riley yesterday, for instance? What if Jonathan went too far with her? What if…?

He groaned.

He didn't want to think about this. He didn't want to worry. He wanted it all switched the fuck off.

Wait.

What had woken him?

What was that sound?

He sat up in bed. "Angela?"

She rolled over to look up at him, eyes wide. "Is that a chopper? "

They got dressed and hurried out of the cabin in time to watch it touch down. The men who got out of it were in uniforms that looked issued by Anderson Scott, and they had guns.

Then they saw others getting out of the chopper, a man and a woman, both wearing lab coats.

The men with the guns came first, and Luther and Angela put their hands up.

"Hold still," said the lab coats, brandishing syringes with needles.

"What is that?" said Luther, as the man in the lab coat approached.

"It's going to be okay, Mr. Thompson," said the lab coat, and jammed the needle into his neck.

Luther gasped, scrabbling up at it, even as the world went strange and dim and his muscles seemed to all relax at once.

"You'll see," said the lab coat, but the world was way up there, at the top of a tunnel, and Luther was sinking down, down, down…