"Steve Perry - Matador 4 - The Omega Cage" - читать интересную книгу автора (Perry Steven)

passionately, thrusting his tongue deep into her mouth. She responded
mechanically, like a robot whose timing was a second slow. He felt the usual
stab of disappointment, but he continued the kiss for a moment before breaking
off and smiling, not letting her see how it bothered him. Some day, he told
himself; some day she would come to him willingly. He loved her, and therefore,
given enough time, she would learn to love him.

"Who was that?" she asked. Casually, as if she cared not at all to know.

"Nobody," Stark replied, feeling a pang of jealousy. She was an Exotic, he knew,
and it was bred into her genes what she did, but he still hated the idea of her with
any other man. Hated it. But at the same time he felt his passion rising at the
thought. He grew hard, visualizing Juete with Maro.


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He took her hand and guided it to his crotch. She began to stroke him. After a
moment, he saw the flush that showed she was excited too. Stark smiled. She
might not love him, but he triggered her responses quickly enough.

"Take off your clothes," he said. "I want to see you."

Quickly, she complied. So pale, so beautiful, the thatch of downy white at her
mons barely covering her labiaтАФ gods, he couldn't wait! Stark pulled her to him
and lifted her from the floor, holding tightly to her buttocks as he pressed
himself, still dressed, against her. Juete gasped at the fierceness of it, and he
smiled into her white hair as he bit her neck.




The cell they gave him was not as bad as some he had been in. It was three
meters by three meters square, close to the same height. The front wall was
finger-thick durasteel diamond-patterned mesh; the two side walls and ceiling
were ferrofoam slabs with stacked-carbon stringer cord bracing; the back wall
was of that strange material that made up large sections of the prison. Curious,
he moved closer and examined it. It was oddly featureless and nonreflective,
looking as much like the still surface of a midnight lake as metal. He touched it,
then snatched his hand away. It was surprisingly cold.

In one corner was a tiled squat, probably white once but now a dull gray. A
single hole in the center of the slightly concave utility served as both excreta
portal and drain; there was a showerhead mounted on the wall with a single
button control.

On the opposite side of the cell was a cot, chain-folded against the wall to allow