She smiled lazily at him then, causing his heart to give a sudden thump in his chest. "You know, McQueen, you really need to lighten up," she drawled. He still said nothing, his body tensing even more as he watched her tongue flick out to run along her coral lips. She looked as though she was entirely unaware of him, as unselfconscious as always, but he still wasn’t convinced.

"What would you suggest?" he answered evenly.

"Get out, get drunk, get stupid – get laid." He snorted at that, his disgust evident. She smiled slowly once more. "What? You never get stupid, get drunk? The oh so proper Colonel McQueen. Tell me McQueen, when was the last time you let rip? When was the last time you got laid?"

"When were you?" Where had the question come from? He wasn’t interested in the answer, he told himself. This woman was bad news. Damn it, if Amanda had been bad for him, how much more so would this wild one be? But a small, traitorous part of his mind wondered what it would be like. What would it feel like to run his hands over that shirt, over those breasts? What would it be like to sink his fingers into that mass of red gold hair, to slide his tongue between those lips? To feel those long slender fingers close over his erection? He shook himself mentally. Was he out of his mind? This woman was dangerous.

"Last week," she answered calmly. "You?"

He stared at her in surprise. "I thought you were here last week?"

"Yes. And your point would be?" He said nothing while she gazed at him, one eyebrow slightly raised in challenge. "And you didn’t answer my question, McQueen."

"Why?" he asked a little bitchily. "Already feeling like you need scratching again?" Her eyes widened in delight.

"Why McQueen. What a thing to say. You know there may be hope for you yet. You may prove to be a flawed as the rest of us after all. Won’t Lucas be disappointed?" Her eyes met his again, twinkling wickedly. "Not quite as upset and disappointed as he will be once he realises that you’re trying to steal his girlfriend."

"Where the hell did you get that idea?" he exploded, almost throwing himself out of his seat in his fury. She didn’t even stir, gazing at him as unperturbed as always. He wondered what the hell it would take to stir that serenity. Throwing her on the floor and fucking her senseless might do it.

"I’m neither blind nor stupid," she commented blithely. "Merely observant. You got it bad McQueen." This time her look was almost sympathetic. Almost. If it hadn’t been for that same slightly mocking edge to it. For a second he found himself wondering if she was ever as lonely as he was.

He took refuge in denial. "I don’t know what you mean." She didn’t call him on it, a fact he was grateful for.

"Seriously, Ty," and her tone was serious, for a change, "when was the last time you actually allowed you to get that close to someone, had that level of intimacy?" She settled forward in her chair, that hair falling over her face.

"What are you, my shrink?" He spat the words out, more scared now by her sudden serious turn than he had been previously by her sexuality. The combination of that tight, white almost see through top and that angelic face with the empathy now in her green eyes almost undid him. He could handle Lisa mocking, and Lisa lustful, but Lisa concerned was not a picture his troubled psyche could handle. "Just because I don’t screw as many people as you, doesn’t mean I don’t have a life."

Her expression hardened briefly, before she laughed. She leant back in her chair again, her eyes once more adopting that mocking look he could deal with. "Honey," she drawled, "I like sex. I wasn’t aware that I had to apologise for that. I like fucking and being fucked." A deliberate ploy to try to shock him, or just Lisa he wondered. "I’m not my sister," she added. "But then neither is she."

That last comment threw him completely. What the hell was that all about? She stretched like a cat once more while he stared at her in confusion.

"The offer’s there," she added unconcerned. He snorted in disgust.

"I’m not interested."

"Like hell," she laughed, her eyes now taking in the crotch of his trousers, stretched tightly over his arousal. "You know what I think, McQueen? I think you wanna. I think you really want to let go, get drunk, do the wild thing. With me, with anyone. I think you want to screw me so badly you can taste it. But you’re afraid of that. Maybe afraid of ruining that perfect image you’ve cultivated. Maybe afraid of being hurt and rejected. Maybe just afraid of letting your heart go. But I think you’re really afraid of letting go cos you don’t know what you might do." Her expression was serious once more. "You know, I’m a big girl. I can take it."

He gaped at her for second before the rage kicked in. It was liberating. "You just curious?" he snarled. "Want to know what it’s like with an InVitro?"

"No," she answered calmly. "I’ve had InVitros before. I like ‘em. ‘Bout the only men I met who can keep up with me sexually speaking. Like I said, I like sex, and I’m not ashamed of that. Natural born or InVitro, doesn’t matter. If I like a guy, I like a guy. Big deal. I like you. I think you’re attractive and good company, even when you’re trying to be in a foul mood. You’re intelligent and I can talk to you. And I keep wondering whether you look as good with that shirt off as you do with it on. But no big deal." She paused to run her fingers through her hair. "I’m not offering or asking for a steady relationship, McQueen. If you’re not interested, fine. Like I said, offer stands."

She stood up then, stretching languidly once more before moving past him. He wasn’t even aware of that hand that reached out and snagged her as she walked past. It came as almost as big a surprise to him as to her when she wound up in his lap.

"Well, McQueen," she almost purred. "Changed your mind?" He ignored her question, plunging his free hand into her hair, and dragging her face down to his. She tasted as sweet and spicy as he had imagined, as his tongue plunged in and out of her mouth. The heat in his groin was growing unbearable. He wanted her more badly than he had ever wanted anyone. He couldn’t wait. His hand ripped at her shirt, almost tearing it off her body to get to her breasts. She wasn’t wearing a bra, allowing him free access as his hands and mouth kneaded, licked and sucked. He wasn’t gentle, but she didn’t seem to mind, arching into his embrace with abandon.

His fingers then sought the fastening to her white jeans. His fingers slid inside, slipping underneath the fabric of her knickers. She was hot and wet. His fingers slid inside her easily. She sighed and shuddered a little, leaning against him, her long hair hiding her face and falling into his. He could feel her pulsing around his fingers. He wanted her. Now.

He pulled his hand free, ignoring her whimper of protest. Her eyes, meeting his, were feral and she growled his name. He ignored her, rolling her beneath him on the sofa and pulling at her remaining clothes. She raised her hips to help him. She was even more beautiful naked than she was clothed. She helped him with his own clothes, pulling at them with as much haste as he had removed hers, ripping the collar of his T-shirt slightly when it didn’t come off fast enough.

Soon he was as naked as she was, his erection free for her to examine. She ran one slender finger along the underside of it, almost causing him to climax there and then. He couldn’t wait anymore. He dragged her down onto the floor with him. There was no time for finesse; his need was too great. He plunged into her, one hand underneath her hips, raising her slightly to increase the friction. He kissed her hard, his tongue exploring every contour of her mouth. He felt her body ripple around him, and that tipped him over the edge.

He lay in her arms afterwards, waiting for the beating of his heart to return to normal. He felt her chuckle slightly. He raised his head to look at her. Her hair was loose around her face like a halo. The least angelic angel he’d ever met.

"What’s so funny?" he asked.

"Has it really been that long, McQueen?" He flushed slightly. "You know, it’s a good job you are an InVitro, or I’d be very disappointed."

"You really are a bitch, aren’t you?"

She laughed again. "Lucas refers to me as that Psycho Bitch from Hell." He found himself laughing a little at that, to his surprise. She grinned at him. "I know – as though being a Psycho Bitch wasn’t enough. I have to go and be one from Hell." He laughed harder.

"I didn’t realise that you and Lucas didn’t get on with each other."

"We do, after a fashion. He doesn’t approve of me, but doesn’t try and change me. I think he’s way too repressed and uptight, and we agree to differ on that one. He does love my sister, and I can forgive him anything for that. You ever tell him this McQueen, and you’re dead, but he’s probably the best thing that’s ever happened to her."

She gave him an arch look, pushing him down her body. "Now, McQueen. I think that there was something that you started and didn’t finish. Far be it for me to stop a good soldier like you from completing a mission."

She tasted of him. It was an unusual sensation, feeling her twist beneath him and tasting her sweetness mixed with his tartness. He made up for his earlier neglect, utilising every trick he’d ever learnt to make her whimper and moan. Fingers and tongue were fully employed until she arched underneath him shuddering in release.

"Nice," she sighed, when she could finally speak. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"Just nice?" he asked, slightly offended.

"Very nice?" she suggested impishly.

"You are beyond redemption," he grinned.

"I’m horny," she stated baldly. He stared at her in surprise. "I told you only an InVitro could keep up with me," she pointed out a little acidly. "Are you going to rise to the occasion?" Her gaze took in his now rampant erection, and the familiar evil glint returned to her eye. "Well, it appears you are." He rolled his eyes. He was beginning to realise that it was no use getting angry with her. It washed over her like water off a duck’s back. She was honest about the way she felt, no matter how uncomfortable, and it appeared that it didn’t disconcert her when others were likewise as honest with her.

He stood, pulling her to her feet. He kissed her hard, stooping to reach her. He gently picked her up, tensing as he felt her legs wrap around him. He could feel the heat of her arousal against his erection. However, he intended this one to last, and he had no intention of carrying her for the entire time.

Instead, he placed her one the sofa, turning her around so that she had her back to him and placing her hands on the back of the sofa. He entered her from behind, stretching and filling her over and over again, while one hand gently rubbed her nub, arousing her further. "Harder," she hissed. He obliged, pounding in and out of her until he felt her climax around him, her heated centre pulsing and gripping him. He didn’t stop, determined now to hear her either scream for him to stop, or scream for him not to. Her breathing was ragged now, her hands leaving the back of the sofa to reach behind her and grasp his hips. Her nails dug into his skin mercilessly, the sharp pain an erotic contrast to the pleasure he felt as her sheath gripped him. The muscles of her vagina were rhythmically clenching and unclenching around him, driving him closer and closer to the edge. Her head was thrown back, her face contorted with passion, a wild and untamed thing. He felt the familiar tension in the pit of his stomach, before he convulsed inside her, screaming her name over and over again as he filled her with his come. His fingers continued to rub against her sensitive nub, dragging her with him.

"Fuck!" he gasped. She eased herself away from him, smiling smugly, as she settled herself on the sofa, her muscles still trembling from the aftershocks of her orgasm.

"Exactly!" she said.