Available in an ebook
PLUNDER
PART ONE - SOLO MISSION
Hayato looked up when Max Wells suddenly spouted an inventive string of impressive curses, punctuated by the clicking clack of her fingers on the keyboard. She typed in a flurry of commands, staring at her computer screen with a fury that would terrify most people.
But not him. The first time he’d seen her, Max’s face had been set in those determined, aggressive lines, and he’d fallen for her. Hard. And never looked back.
So he just smiled and sat back on their new leather couch, only half-heartedly skimming the business law contract in his hands. They’d finally unpacked everything in their new condo that, while still strange — neither of them historically sharing their space well with others — was starting to feel like home.
“Really, Richards?” he heard Max say snarkily at her screen before she reached back to tighten the hold she had her wild, red hair in. She stretched her fingers then began to type heatedly. “You’re going to bed now? We’re so close to finding the treasure.”
The lawyer turned and looked at the clock on their wall.
1:30am.
No wonder his attention was wandering so much. He’d been up since 5:30am and needed to be up even earlier tomorrow. He yawned. “Max, you ready for bed?”
“Sure, sure.” She waved one hand at him behind her back, not even looking away from the screen, while the other still typed. “Be right up; just gotta finish one more thing.”
He rolled his eyes. He’d been hearing that phrase for the past two and a half weeks. He shook his head and started up the stairs. When Max got into something, she sunk her teeth in. And Plunder 4 was a hell of a meal.
He’d played the original game a bit when Peter first picked it up, but he wasn’t much for video games and hardly ever had time to invest in them.
Not that he would have pegged Max as a gamer either. She wasn’t. But B.D. Cooper, the game’s developer, had decided to publish a series of Plunder novels through Elysia. And, being admirably thorough, Max had picked up and played through the most recent incarnation in preparation and quickly become enthralled.
Plunder, with its expansive world and rich storylines filled with randy space pirates going on adventures and quests that ranged from the quirky to the epic, was perfect for Max, who couldn’t help but love a good story. But, of course, what had hooked her was the band of characters in the game, a diverse and unique group not often seen in traditional media. As much fun as Max was having playing intergalactic Robin Hood, her obsession was running through all the romance options in the game. She’d been raving and gushing over the honest and respectful representation of characters of color, LGBTQIA+ characters, and even and especially kinksters of all kinds.
It was, in fact, the reason B.D. had chosen Elysia, who was swiftly becoming the most literate and celebrated name in erotic kink literature written by and for real-life kinksters. Because, as she’d told Max, “Plunder just wouldn’t be Plunder if I had to tone anything down to appease some publisher.”
Max couldn’t have agreed more. And she was more than excited to help explore more of the relationship plot lines that the game just didn’t quite have time for.
And, while he was happy for her — after all, as an Asian kinkster in an interracial, open relationship with a woman still exploring her newly discovered kinky side, how could he hate the game or her desire to promote it — he sighed.
He missed Max.
And he shouldn’t.
They were living together; how could he miss her?
After a lot of discussion, they’d finally decided to move in with each other in hopes that, despite both their busy schedules, they’d be able to spend more time together.
Funny, he thought while he undressed and climbed into their brand new, hardly broken in bed, we spent more time together when we were living apart.
And it wasn’t just sex or companionship that he missed. They were in an open relationship; he could easily spend time with Pip or Reena. He could spend time at Donovan’s. He could meet-up with friends, like Peter or Rand.
And he’d done that over the past few weeks. Only to stop when it felt too much like a replacement for what he really wanted.
Max.
Which didn’t feel fair or right. So he’d gone home and wondered when Max would find time for him.
He groaned and tossed about in the bed. Didn’t that sound pathetic?
Pulling the covers over himself, he wondered if this was simply what living with a person meant. After all, it wasn’t as if he had much experience in the area. Not since he and Peter shared a dorm room in college, which had been, of course, completely different. How was he supposed to know?
Of course, he’d heard people say that large commitments, like marriage or moving in with a partner, often led to complacency. Was that all this was? After all, they couldn’t exactly treat every night at home as if it were date night. It’s not as if they could stay in the honeymoon period of their relationship, where she’d teased him in lacy teddies and barely there negligees. Where he’d spent all night worshipping her body. He understood that there was always bound to be a certain amount of settling down as you settled in.
But, imagining Max in her worn-out college sleep shirt battling space pirates, he worried that it might be more.
Turning on his side to stare at the empty half of the large bed, he frowned and wondered if maybe Max wasn’t so much throwing herself into work as she was avoiding him. After all, it wasn’t as if her job required her to play the game. It was her choice to spend every night for weeks downstairs curled up in her computer chair rather than with him.
Closing his eyes, he let out a huff. After getting a taste of cohabitation, was Max regretting her choice?
———
Kat Valdez-Richards stabbed her chicken breast before slicing off a piece. “I swear to God, Max,” she warned, waving the bite-sized parmesan at her friend, “if you don’t stop playing that stupid game with Peter, I will never speak to you again.”
“It’s not stupid.” Max rolled her eyes. Plunder had one of the most well-developed and immersive plots she’d ever seen. She’d never have expected to find a story of that quality in a video game. “I wouldn’t have pitched so hard for the series, if I didn’t believe in the franchise.” She chewed a bit. “I was actually hoping that you might be interested in helping B.D. with her manuscript. She’s used to writing in script-format, but could use a little help with the prose.”
Kat turned her nose and scoffed. “I am not helping that woman. At the moment, I don’t really feel like helping you.”
Max slanted her friend an indulgent look. “You’re in a mood today.”
“Because for the past who-knows-how-long I’ve had to beg, badger, and practically tear Peter away from his computer to get laid.” She grumbled and chewed her chicken. “All he seems to care about now is Plunder.” She jutted out her jaw in a pout. “Used to be he was more concerned about…” She shook her head.
“Plundering you.” Max snickered.
“About everything,” Kat said. “He’s supposed to be looking for new office locations now that his business is expanding. We’re supposed to be researching new cars, since mine is on its last legs. And, yes, I’d like to have sex with my husband without feeling like I spend half-an-hour nagging beforehand.” She scowled at her friend. “It kinda spoils the mood, you know.” She shook her head. “What does Hayato think of all this? He can’t be happy about all your late night raids.”
Sir? Max shrugged. “He hasn’t said anything to me.” And, well, before they moved in with each other, they’d only seen each other a couple of nights a week anyway. Now at least they almost always ate dinner together and woke up together and headed out to work together. What did it matter that they didn’t necessarily go to sleep together? Did it really matter that they didn’t lie unconscious next to each other for the exact same amount of time?
If they did at all. Max frowned. Last night, she’d fallen asleep on the couch next to her desk only to wake up and play a bit more before she left for work.
“You should watch out.” Kat took a sip with a knowing look in her eye. “If you’re not careful, he’ll do something drastic like disable your computer or wipe your game history or something.”
Max gaped. “He wouldn’t dare.”
Kat gave a humorless laugh. “I’d have done it already, but Peter’s the one who would know how to do all that without damaging anything.” She shrugged. “But, if this keeps going, I’m just going to take a bat to the whole system.”
Max snorted. “Not getting any makes you mean, lady.”
Kat shrugged. “Okay, maybe not that, but something has to change. Maybe some kind of curfew or something.”
“Curfew?”
“Sure.” Kat gripped her glass and took small sips, thinking. “Some rule like ‘sex starts at midnight, with or without you. After that, I lock the bedroom door and we’re both on our own for the night.’ It’s not like we don’t have enough toys.”
“And what about Peter?” Max fought the urge to laugh. Kat’s husband might be a friend now, but a fickle part of her was giddy at the idea of him getting cock-blocked by a curfew.
Kat sniffed. “If he can’t make it up to bed in time, it’s not like we don’t also have enough pillows for him to be quite comfortable on the couch.”
Max couldn’t help but laugh at that.
Kat gave her a superior look. “You should be careful too, before Hayato lays down his own rules.”
Max rolled her eyes and took a sip of her own drink. “I don’t think I have to worry about that. Pretty sure I could wake him up at any time, ask him if he wanted to have sex, and the answer’s always going to be yes.”
Kat laughed agreeably before changing topics. Max nodded and ate, trying not to think about the worry now spreading through her mind.
Yes, she was sure that he would say yes, if she asked him for sex. But he wasn’t exactly complaining, even though she couldn’t really remember the last time they’d had sex — not in the last week, certainly, but surely in the last month, right around the move, right? — much less losing his mind over it like Kat. Hell, he wasn’t even asking for it.
What did that mean?
Maybe sex didn’t matter as much now that they’d moved in together.
It wasn't like they had to plan and pencil it in around early morning meetings or late night office hours like they did before the move.
They could have sex whenever they wanted now.
She’d just gotten a little distracted.
There’d be time to make up for it all, after she finished the game.
She was sure of it.
———
Max waited for her game to load to her last save point. She’d failed her last mission twice now. She needed Peter — he was better with the healers than she was and she was getting her ass handed to her — but he hadn’t logged in yet. She looked at her clock. It was way past his and Kat’s usual dinner hour. Even if they’d gone out to dinner or if work had run a little long, he should have been online by now. Where was he?
She looked at her sad, sad loot level. If she wanted a third attempt at the mission, she’d have to get more coins first. Maybe she ought to double back and do a few smaller heists or find a settlement to trade with. With a sigh, she turned her ship around.
She was finishing up a trade deal with an allied settlement when she saw Peter log on.
Finally!
She messaged him. Where the hell have you been?
There was a pause before he responded. I had to wait until Kat fell asleep.
Max raised an eyebrow. Why?
Curfew.
Max literally laughed out loud. She actually did it! Max couldn’t believe it. And you fell for it.
She could almost hear him grumble in his typed response. I didn’t really get a choice. Plunder is great, but I’m not about to give up sex over it.
She shook her head and smiled. You are so whipped.
Hey, Kat’s upstairs, happy and exhausted, and I’m here now. Put me to work before I tell Hayato to enact his own curfew.
Max laughed. Whatever. He’s prepping for mediation tomorrow. Maybe you and Kat don’t, Mr. Big Bad Dom, but we know who really holds the handle in this relationship. And Max Wells, Plundress of the Galaxy, was never whipped.
Metaphorically, anyway.
She sat up straighter. Newly flush with loot, she began to fill in Peter about the mission and what she needed him to do to complete it.
They were about half-way through the mission — stealing private sector stores of food, medicine, and weapons that were being diverted from poorer, rural outposts to an overly opulent government delegate meeting — when she saw the message.
All it said was From Sir right above a counter ticking down the seconds. Fifteen minutes. He was giving her fifteen minutes.
She smirked at the cheeky tactic. So Sir was feeling bossy, huh? She couldn’t tell yet if that made her feel rebellious or like rewarding his assertiveness with compliance.
She snickered and shook her head. Sir.
It was their running joke-that-was-not-quite-a-joke. A titular nickname that held only the meaning they gave it from moment to moment. That granted him all the power and control she decided to give him.
She knew there were people who gave the title more formality — more significance and weight — just as she knew there were people who scoffed at or looked down at or were even offended by it, but it worked for them. In their own way, it fit the roles they inhabited. That they lived and loved by.
It signified that he was special to her — the only man she’d ever allow to get bossy with her and only because he knew how to make it worth her while. Which, in turn, strangely made her feel special too.
Which, of course, didn’t mean that she couldn’t make him work for it.
Fifteen minutes, huh? Cockily, she sent back a message. Until what exactly?
The only response that came back was a new counter. With three minutes shaved off of the original time.
Well, then, aye, aye, sir. Message received.
Looked like she had her own dwindling curfew to worry about.
A part of her — the contrary, rebellious part — wanted to scoff at the restriction. She was a fully grown adult; no one told her when bedtime was. Much less some guy looking to get laid.
Except…well, getting laid sounded pretty good. They hadn’t had sex in a while and, now that she’d thought about it — realized how long it’d really been — she missed it. Wanted it.
But she still had her mission.
Max bit her lip and looked back at her game. Frowning thoughtfully, she shrugged. She could finish her mission in that time, she was sure of it.
It’d taken some creative manipulation of resources and players, but she and Peter had all but cleaned out the sector’s supplies and were dropping them off at the outpost — for a healthy cut of the booty — just as the counter’s timer went off.
Hecks yeah.
Feeling like an intergalactic boss, she collected her share of the raid and saved her game. After shutting down her game, she headed to bed. It was time to collect her reward for a raid well done.
She tilted her head when she saw that the bedroom door was closed. They never closed doors. They’d both lived alone too long and were too comfortable with each other’s bodies to get in the habit of closing doors. So a shut bedroom door confused her.
With him, everything held meaning. Every tone and word and action could speak volumes. It just wasn’t always clear what was being said.
She turned the knob.
The room was dim with just the far bedside lamp lit. She blinked in the doorway when she saw him. Lying in the middle of the bed. Naked. With his hand on his cock. His eyes — a natural dark brown with his usually blue-colored contacts out for the night — were almost completely closed and his head was tossed back on the pillows. Fair strands fell stray and loose from the top bun twisted at the crown of his head. His luxuriously golden skin looked lustrous in the lamplight.
Well, hello, sir.
He was so gorgeous. Unlike anyone she’d ever met or would ever meet in her life. Looking at him was like unwrapping a gift or discovering hidden treasure. Her eyes widened while she watched his hand move up and down his hard shaft.
“You like to look.”
Max glanced up. He turned to lean on his side, so he faced her. Studied her really.
She nodded thoughtfully even as her gaze slipped south to his hard length jutting upward against his taut middle. She swallowed hard. It was a good show. “I’d like to join.” She moved to strip off her old college t-shirt and walk toward the bed.
He held up his hand to stop her. Reflexively, she did, curious to see what game he was playing. “Take off just the shirt,” he said, his gaze narrowing on the comfortably stretched-out, worn-thin cotton covering her breasts, “then take a seat at the end of the bed.”
She quirked her eyebrow at the small patch of duvet he pointed to at the opposite end of the bed. Okay. Weird, but all right. She tugged the sleep shirt over her head and draped it over the back of a chair. “Okay, now what?”
He sat up a bit, so he could lean back against the headboard. “Now watch.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Just watch?”
He grabbed his sex in his hand. “If you’d wanted to do more, you’d have made it to bed on-time.”
She checked her phone. “I couldn’t have been more than three minutes late.”
“Late,” he pointed out, “being the operative word.” He tsked and settled back in the comforter. “I sent you a clock and everything.”
“So I can only watch?” She shook her head. What kind of game was he playing?
He lifted a shoulder casually, but she could see his eyes fire as he gripped his dick again. “You could always give me something to look at too.”
She grinned and rolled her eyes. Give a lawyer a loophole… How typical!
Fine.
She couldn’t touch him; that didn’t mean she couldn’t get him to touch her.
With that thought in mind, her smile widened and she got comfortable. “You want to look too, huh?” She cupped her breasts, heavy and full, in her hands.
Then look. Sir.
She brushed her thumbs over her nipples, feeling the rosy tips tighten. She sucked in a breath and did it again, the touch burning within her. She squeezed one full breast in her hand while she continued to tease and stroke her other peak.
“Pinch your nipple.”
She smiled. He loved to watch her pink flesh flush a deep, dusky rouge with sensual abuse. She saw his grip tense when she moaned and writhed a bit on the blankets.
“Yeah.” His voice sounded breathy and hot. “You like that, don’t you?”
She nodded and squeezed harder. “I see you do too.”
“I do.” His face flushed hot in the low light. “Twist.”
Her breath hitched and she felt her breasts shake with the harsh jerk. She felt the sensitive skin of her nipple stretch and the blood rush beneath her finger’s pinch. Her eyes fluttered shut as sensation shot through her. She breathed through it before massaging her tender flesh in sweet, soothing motions.
“Are you wet?”
She tilted her head and looked at him. “Do you want me to see?”
“Yes.” The word was a hiss.
Fine. She tucked a hand down beneath the waistband of the pajama bottoms she was wearing. She slid her hand down to stroke the soft, swollen folds between her legs. “Mmmm.” She continued to rub along her labia. “Very.”
“Let me see.”
She grinned and tsked. “What do I get out of it?” She began to play with her nipple again.
“I’m letting you see mine;” he said, letting his hand lingeringly play along his hard length, “only fair I get to see yours.”
She almost laughed aloud. “If you’d really wanted more, sir,” she said, echoing his earlier words while she spread her legs more, offering him a better view of her cotton-blocked tease, “you’d have asked me to take off my pants.”
He chuckled, the sound low and luring. “Fair enough.” He shifted to sit up a bit more. “Then, if you won’t let me see, tell me. Describe it.”
She sent him an amused look. He wanted her to dirty talk about touching herself? She pursed her lips and thought about it. Okay, she could do that. “My sex is so slick I can feel it drip warm and thick over my skin.”
“Are you getting the bed wet?” His hand began to move faster.
“Yes.” She could feel her arousal soak through her pants; it must be staining the covers.
“What else?”
She coated her finger with her heat and began to stroke her sex. “I can feel my clit, hard and needy against my fingertip.” She panted, the words broken by her breath. “I can feel each touch like a lick of fire, starting in my belly and spreading all over.”
“More.”
She looked up and met his gaze, the dark brown of his eyes feeling almost like a stranger’s after more than a year of his usual contact-colored blue. It made her feel keenly watched. Exposed. Naked. “I can see you watching me. Can feel your eyes on my body like a touch.”
“Does it make you hot?”
It shouldn’t. Not when it felt so unfamiliar. “Yes.” Because, as strange as it may feel, here with her Sir, it also felt safe. Riding an edge that, with him, she knew well. “Yes.”
“Does looking at me make you hot?”
Always. She bit her lip and nodded, not trusting the words to feel right on her lips. She wanted to touch him. Wanted him to touch her. She wanted to take him and be taken. Staring into the need in his dark, deep, walnut-colored eyes, she needed him. She nodded, feeling her teeth ravage her silent mouth.
“Say it.”
She shook her head and pursed her lips tight.
“Tell me.”
She shut her eyes and bent her knees. Her feet flexed hard against the pleasure threatening to overtake her, even as her hands continued to play hurried havoc over her body.
“Max.” His voice, so musical and almost pretty, reached inside her and tugged at her will. “Look at me.”
She shook her head again.
“Look at me and I’ll let you have an extra half hour of Plunder tomorrow.”
She shouldn’t have, but she laughed and opened her eyes.
Yep, she really shouldn’t have.
She felt her control slip, the second she saw him. Beautifully tense, every muscle in his lean body pulled taut. His arousal-flushed skin was slick with a sheen of sweat. And his cock thrust, insistent and hard, in his hand, was held in a tight fist. He was on that same edge with her. And about to fall off.
Fuck.
She felt her body peak on a sharp breath, everything within her seeming to lurch as pleasure tore through her. Her head fell back and she moaned, her back arching and her mind going blank even while her hands kept on in adoring torment.
She heard his echoing groan, a shuttering sound, and felt the bed rock beneath her as he writhed.
She smiled. Maybe there was something to this curfew thing. Cause that was definitely worth getting into bed for.
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