Wired For Sex: A.D.A.M. Read online

  His data processing capabilities had gone haywire with the heat sizzling through his circuits, however. He had already gripped her hair in his fist, snatched her head back, and clamped his mouth over hers for ‘the kiss’ before the processing caught up with his actions. He was not certain if it would have then except she made a soft, mewling sound that penetrated the red haze rampaging through him.

  Protest? Pain? Acceptance?

  He speared his tongue into her mouth to determine which.

  She touched her tongue to his, and his sensors short-circuited. His brain seemed to shut down completely as pleasure engulfed him. Evie, he thought, as he felt the heat of her mouth, the texture of her tongue against his, her taste, cataloguing everything beside the name.

  He jogged his memory a little desperately, trying to think what came next, but for many moments he was so enthralled with the feel of her pliant flesh against his body and her taste in his mouth that he could not seem to move past that. The painful throbbing in his groin and the realization that he had been pumping his hips against her mindlessly finally produced the memory that he was supposed to insert his penis into her body and stroke the walls of her sex to bring her to culmination. It took him several moments more to assess the fact that he could not do so until he removed the barrier that his clothes represented, and he discovered that he had ‘forgotten’ how to do so. He was reluctant to loosen his grip on her even when he finally remembered, and when the need to accomplish his goal finally outweighed the desire to hold her tightly against him, he discovered that he had lost the dexterity of his hand to accomplish it.

  The memory of her tempting white buttocks flashed in his mind. Breaking the kiss, he turned her and pushed her down on the table as she had been before, freed his painfully swollen member from his pants, and dove for the hole he needed to shove his penis into, only to discover yet another barrier.

  That one threatened to completely defeat him until he finally realized it was not her body, but her clothing. Deciding he was not currently capable of figuring out how to remove it in the accepted manner, he grasped the thin wedge of fabric and ripped it off.

  She made a whimpering noise as he plowed along her cleft, searching blindly for the hole, the entrance to the warm, wet channel that would envelop his member.

  Wet, he remembered belatedly. It had to be wet or his skin would cling to hers.

  He stroked a hand along her cleft until he found the place and pushed a finger inside of her.

  Hot moisture coated his finger instantly, and relief filled him—and blinding need.

  Grasping his member, he aligned it and pressed inside of her.

  He was not prepared for the feeling. Everything intensified the instant he felt her flesh close around his penis. His heart, already pumping so fast it made him dizzy, began to surge almost painfully against his chest wall. “Evie,” he murmured aloud, his voice sounding strangely hoarse to his ears as he carefully catalogued these new sensations. This was Evie. This was how Evie felt, smelled, tasted....

  The pleasure was so excruciating he was not certain for several moments after he had engaged his body fully with hers if what he was feeling was pain or pleasure.

  He decided to assess it later as his hips began to move almost of their own accord, pumping in a way that sawed his engorged member in and out, back and forth along her wet channel, sending out fresh, harder waves of sensation with every movement.

  'The caress', he remembered abruptly.

  He had completely forgotten the caress in his desperation to get his penis inside of her. His brain worked sluggishly, however, when it worked at all, in fits and spurts as if the heat burning him up had soldered random wires together, burned others in two. He groped her blindly in a belated attempt to stimulate her by caress, finding the swaying globes of her breasts almost by accident.

  She moaned as he pinched the tip of one between his fingers.

  The sound scraped along his nerve endings like finger nails, raising the heat level inside of him.

  Abruptly, she stiffened beneath him, uttered a long, low groan that rose in pitch until it was nearly a scream as her body began to shake and jerk convulsively.

  And then she went limp.

  The scream and her sudden limpness penetrated the steaming fog in his mind like nothing else, pierced it with a sudden coldness. He stopped abruptly, heaving for breath, trying to fight the sudden fear that he had done something terribly wrong.

  His own body screamed in protest as he withdrew from her, but despite that, despite the fact that he had managed to find a thready pulse, his uneasiness grew when she continued to lay sprawled against the table as if he had sucked the life out of her.

  She dragged in a shaky breath as he stepped back and guiltily shoved his stiff penis back into his pants. Finally, she lifted her head and looked back at him.

  He could not tell anything from her expression.

  He did not believe he had hurt her, though.

  He didn't think.

  He could not think. The blood was still roiling through his veins and pounding in his skull so hard his thought processes were a rioting mess. “Thank you,” he mumbled, dimly aware that some comment was necessary and latching upon the first polite phrase that popped into his mind.

  The look that crossed her features then so completely disconcerted him that he whirled on his heel and retreated.

  * * * *

  Evelyn stared at the door blankly when Adam disappeared through it, a chill washing over her that wiped out the lingering heat from her climax so abruptly she shivered.

  Pushing herself up with an effort, she thrust her hair from her face as she turned toward the door. “Thank you?” she murmured in disbelief.

  Still weak in the aftermath of the most mind blowing climax she had ever had in her life, she plunked her hips on the table behind her. It was as she crossed her arms over her chest to hold in some of the rapidly escaping warmth from her body that she discovered he had shoved her down on the table on top of her birthday cupcake. She stared down at the mess in dismay, trying to wrap her mind around what had happened.

  The urge to cry hit her out of nowhere.

  She had no idea where it had come from or why she suddenly felt so crushed, but she had to fight the sting of tears in her nose and eyes and the wobble that developed in her chin as she brushed at the crushed cake and icing smeared on her shirt.

  Realizing after a few moments that she was only making things worse, she firmly pushed everything to the back of her mind and focused on cleaning up the mess, unwilling to leave a sign of a crumb behind to point at her guilt.

  Grabbing up her belongings and the report she had finished shortly before Adam's arrival, she dashed to the first ladies lounge and used a damp paper towel to remove as much of the chocolate icing as she could. She had already dropped the report on her boss’ desk and fled into the elevator before it dawned on her that, somewhere in the rounds, she had lost her panties.

  She might not have noticed it then except for the tickle when her legs rubbed together.

  She did not even remember taking them off.

  Then she did remember—not taking them off, but Adam snapping the thin waistband.

  It had thrilled her at the time, excited her that he had been so anxious to possess her he had not wanted to wait.

  Except he hadn't come.

  She did not have to feel between her legs to know he hadn't.

  He had pulled out—she thought to keep from coming inside of her, but he hadn't come at all.

  The tears she had been working so hard to suppress welled in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Dashing them off with her hand, she began to stab at the elevator buttons frantically. Finally, it stopped, and she hit the button to go back up.

  There was no sign of her panties, she discovered in dismay. She even got down on her hands and knees and crawled around under the conference table to search for them, checked every chair, scanned the entire room.

  The last coher
ent thought she'd had was of her ripped panties slipping down one leg and pooling at her ankle. She had kicked them off. They should be under the conference table, but there was no getting around the fact that they weren't.

  She did not want to leave without them, but although she searched until she was ready to flop on the floor and squall, she couldn't find them.

  Trying to assure herself that if she couldn't, nobody else would, and that they would never believe it was her panties even if they did find them, she clutched her belongings against her chest and trudged to the elevator again.

  She didn't even think about the security guard on the first floor until the elevator signaled it had landed and the doors began to open. Frantically smoothing her hair and straightening her clothes, she clutched her belongings more tightly to her and marched toward the door stiffly erect, praying her bare ass wasn't hanging out from beneath her skirt.

  "Rough night, huh?"

  Feeling her face heat, Evelyn threw the guard a distracted, wobbly smile. “A little, but I finished the report!” she called as she rushed toward the exit.

  No amount of reasoning with herself had the least effect, Evelyn discovered when she got home and climbed into her cold, lonely bed. As many times as she told herself that she had gotten exactly what she wanted, she still felt used and discarded and wept until finally, completely exhausted, she fell asleep.

  She woke feeling worse. Her head was pounding so hard from half a night of weeping inconsolably that she could barely function. A hot shower relieved some of the ache from congestion and the sore muscles from the unaccustomed ‘activity’ the night before. A cold compress reduced some of the swelling in her eyes.

  By the time she had sipped down her coffee, she wasn't depressed anymore. She was thoroughly pissed off.

  The jerk! The asshole! The sorry, low down son-of-a-bitch! If he hadn't wanted her, why not just say so? Why fuck her at all and then just stroll out as if completely unmoved by the experience?

  Which he had been, because he hadn't even come!

  Was it just to make her feel pathetic?

  Chapter Four

  Adam could not sleep. Uneasiness permeated his entire being. He was disturbed on so many levels that the fact that he was disturbed him almost more than the cause of his distress.

  He had not been taught to expect anything that had happened.

  He still was not entirely certain what had happened, but the fear that he had malfunctioned, was suffering a complete breakdown of circuitry and programming, had sent him hurrying toward the lab as soon as his mind had cleared enough for that possibility to present itself. The same fear, compounded by another, nameless one, had halted him before he had gotten there.

  Self preservation, he realized. They would destroy him if they discovered how erratically he was thinking and behaving, not fix him, not explain to him why he was feeling things he had never been designed to feel.

  It was a while before he even realized that much. He had replayed what had happened in his mind between him and Evie over and over, compared it to his programming to ferret out every flaw in his behavior and actions and analyzed his failure to perform as anticipated for hours before it had dawned on him that he had felt everything. He had not been programmed to feel, only to simulate it. He had been designed and programmed to emulate life, not feel. His sensors were highly sensitive, but designed to report their findings to his CPU to be analyzed so that he could articulate the correct response.

  He had not been able to analyze anything, however, or call up his programming for the correct response, because he had felt, and that had deprived him of the ability to behave logically when he should not have been able to do anything else.

  As much as that disturbed him, he was even more distressed about the results of his inability to call up his programmed behavior and act it out.

  Evie must know he was not a man—not a real man.

  He had not done anything he was supposed to do after ‘the kiss'. He wasn't sure he had even performed the kiss correctly once he had finally cooled down enough that his brain began to function more normally.

  He had panicked when she had climaxed, been completely incapable of recognizing it for what it was—because he knew he was malfunctioning and the first thought to run through his mind was that he had gone berserk and broken her. He recalled noting the fact that she was human, and fragile, at one point, but that knowledge should have tinted every thought and action thereafter, and it hadn't because he had ‘forgotten’ it just as he had forgotten all of the steps of stimulation that were supposed to precede penetration.

  She had come, though. He was relieved about that much in the beginning, thinking that his father must be appeased by that. He had acted upon the situation and fucked her, and she had come.

  Would it be obvious, though, that he had not done anything right, he wondered?

  Would it look like two humans fucking? Or would it look like an android fucking a human?

  Unable to shake the fear that the security vids, instead of vindicating him, would condemn him, he had gone to the control booth and called up the vid. He had watched it over and over, convinced the first time—and relieved—that it appeared very much like the images of copulation that had been implanted in his mind. He could see nothing inhuman or mechanical about his behavior.

  Nothing.

  Because he had not been behaving according to pre-establish protocols. He had been reacting to stimulus.

  He began to worry next that his father and the others would realize he was not simulating, that he actually was out of control.

  He had dismissed his fears, though, when his focus had shifted to Evie.

  Everything he had felt at the time came back in aching detail.

  And more.

  Possessiveness, his mind finally interpreted the emotion that welled inside of him.

  Reluctance.

  For the first time he considered destroying the vid, not from self-preservation, but because he abruptly knew he did not want anyone else watching Evie, did not want anyone to see the beauty of her face as it was transformed by pleasure, hear her cries of delight when she came.

  It was for him. It was his. Evie was his.

  He hadn't come. Once he had managed to get past everything that had been worrying him, had managed to convince himself that he had not actually malfunctioned, he realized that the reason he was still miserable and aching and unable to put any of it completely from his mind was because he had not achieved orgasm. Everything had built up inside of him toward an explosive release and then he had withdrawn, leaving his body on high alert and unable to come down to a comfortable level.

  He needed Evie for relief.

  He had left Robotics Inc. and found his way to her home.

  It was the second time in the space of a few hours that he had considered rebelling against his programming, except that this time he had done it.

  They would know if he destroyed the security vid that no one else could have done it, and they would begin to question whether he was dangerous to them or not.

  If they found out he had left the building, they would not be in any doubt any longer, but unlike the situation with the vid, he'd been able to cover that. They would not know that he had accessed employee records specifically to find her, because that was part of his job as head of security—investigating all of the employees. And they would not know he had left the building because he had taken care to avoid all of the security cameras on the way out and back in.

  Despite the fit of rebellion, though, in spite of the fact that he had fully intended, when he left, to approach her and ask if she would fuck him again and give him relief, he had not been able to come up with a scenario he thought would convince her.

  Because then he had remembered the way she had looked at him when he left.

  Beyond the discomfort of having a body that refused to return to a normal state of non-arousal, let alone rest, Adam discovered he could not sleep for the unfamiliar emot
ions roiling through him, could not analyze and fully categorize them, could not stop feeling them. He knew he had to, though, because he could not afford to seek help from either his father or the lab techs to deal with them because he also knew they would destroy him if they had any inkling he had passed beyond mere simulation of human emotions.

  * * * *

  Her boss knew. There was something about the way he looked at her that she could not quite pen down that told her he knew.

  Maybe it was just the fact that he actually looked at her and not through her?

  Evelyn did not delude herself into thinking it was the report, although he was almost effusive in his praise of a job well done.

  Or maybe it was the fact that he had called Adam Mercury to his office mid-morning?

  Her heart had leapt into her throat and threatened to choke her when she had glanced up as the door opened and saw who it was that had entered the reception area. Panic followed, then anger, then panic again. It had taken every ounce of self-control she could muster to even attempt to behave professionally. She knew the false smile she managed to paste on her lips must look as insincere as it felt, but she didn't care if it did.

  She hoped he realized she was intentionally giving him the cold shoulder.

  She could not quite get up enough nerve to meet his gaze, though, to see if it had had the desired effect.

  She could feel him staring at her as he waited for Mr. Johnson to call him in to his office.

  She thought she could feel it. She could not bring herself to look at him to see if it was just her imagination or not.

  Relief flooded her when he disappeared into Mr. Johnson's office at last.

  She had just managed to achieve a more or less normal heart rhythm when he left the office again.

  He paused in front of her desk.

  She flicked a quick look at his crotch, which was almost eye level with her, and returned her attention to her books. “Did you need another appointment set up?” she asked coolly, without looking up.

  "Evie."

  His voice was low, expelled on a ragged exhalation of breath.