The Cypol

Published by: eXtasy Books

Author : Nina Munteanu

ISBN :978-1-55410-743-8

Page :66

Word Count :16500

Publication Date :2011-06-19

Series : #

Heat Level :

Available Formats : The Cypol (pdf) , The Cypol (prc) , The Cypol (epub) , The Cypol (mobi)

Category : Erotic Romance , Romance

Product Code: 978-1-55410-743-8

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A beautiful but reckless idealist, intrepidly accepts the perilous job of delivering droid-interfering parts from the secret Distopian manufacturer to programmer/assembler, in a daring plan to change the way AIs think. Feeling invincible, Krys masks her penalty-by-death activities with another illicit activity: peddling sex-literature--erotic literature made illegal by the AIs. But when she has a run-in with a cypol – ruthless enforcers of the cyber-government and thought to be cyborg hybrids of flesh and machine – she finds out what they really are, and both her smugness and her concept of what it means to be a human is shattered.

She backed into the door. He pinned her against it with his hands and she smelled sweet smoke and oranges on him … She fought to keep her breaths from convulsing into shallow eddies.

“Nothing like the real thing though, is there?” he said in a thick voice. “You want it. I see it in your face.”

She found herself focusing on the little space between his two front teeth. He grinned like a pirate and his eyes were dark like a stormy sea, drawing her to him like a drowning sailor even as she thrashed away in a huff. “What part of no don’t you understand?”

He smirked. “No means yes, my rude little peddler.”

“You’re the one who’s rude.” She glared at him.

“All right, I’m rude,” he said and leaned forward, face closing in. The tangy fragrance of orange lingered on his breath. “You’re trembling.”

“I’m not afraid of you.”

“You should be.” His lips almost touched hers. “I always get what I want.”

“Well, get used to your first disappointment,” she said, inhaling the sharp and oily smell of his sweat, and confused by the fact that he was annoying and charming her at the same time.

He leaned into her, stirring an ache.

“Don’t!” she whispered hoarsely. She was already wet.

“Don’t means do,” he murmured into her hair. “You’re trembling . . . for me.” She was. How could she be! He wasn’t remarkably handsome, but a kind of blind tenderness about him tugged her insides. He was all paradox: demanding and pleading at the same time; terrifying yet alluring; cock-sure and tentative; a law enforcer and a scoundrel; a cypol and a man. His hand slid down her silky dress and brushed against her naked thigh. The storm inside her throbbed out of control.

“Stop it,” she panted.

He caressed her flaming cheeks with his lips. “You want me.”

She did. She did want him, more than anything, and found the terrifying thrill of it as inescapable as it was inexplicable.

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The Cypol

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