Read Programmed To Please (The Tau Cetus Chronicles) for Free Online Page B

exact specifications. Hell, only two minutes after he’d met her, he’d convinced himself the machine had a personality!
    If you cut me, I would leak. Synthetic XP201b.
    Marque had been stunned at her wryly humorous comment. But moments later, she’d followed it up with another zinger when he’d observed that her outfit was a tease.
    This garment is meant to tease you, Marque , she’d responded flirtatiously.
    What the hell was wrong with him? Her answers had been nothing more than simple statements of fact. He was the one who was interpreting them as wit .
    But the topper had been the incredible sex. No human being could feel that good. That snug around him, gripping him, squeezing him. Hell, his cock was as hard as a rock right now just from the memory of how amazing it had felt. And when her strong robot thighs had urged him even deeper inside her, dear God, he’d lost his control.
    Oh yes, this was dangerous indeed.
    Could it be that he’d responded to her so forcefully because he’d recently been celibate? How long had it been, anyway, since he’d had sex?
    He turned in his pacing, considering the question.
    Six months? No, that wasn’t possible. Could it really be half a year since he’d put aside Syretha and her unreasonable demands on his time?
    He’d survived just fine since then, thank you very much. But God Almighty, J was infinitely better than any masturbation he’d indulged in.
    And her post-coital joke yesterday about his body weight on top of her ‘damaging the merchandise’ was just another example of –
    Stop it, Marque! It was not a joke. What the hell is wrong with you?
    He shoved a hand through his hair.
    Right. Exactly. What the hell was wrong with him that the one image he couldn’t seem to shake was the vulnerable confusion on J’s face when he’d ordered her into hibernation mode?
    I’m done with you… I don’t want to look at you.
    He’d almost describe the look in her eyes as... hurt.
    Fuck.
    He could see how Anson Carron made his money from addicting people to his extraordinary, astonishing machines.
    But Marque Callex was no ordinary man. He would not fall into Carron’s trap. He was not going back to Beautiful Dolls.
    Unless…
    He slowed in his pacing, considering.
    Unless it was to prove a point.
    A firm knock on his door stopped his pacing in its tracks. He looked around, as if momentarily surprised at his surroundings.
    Damn. She’s done it again. He was thinking about the Doll, not about the pile of paperwork needing his urgent attention. The pile which even now leaned dangerously to one side, ready to spill over onto his polished, hand-crafted mahogany desk.
    Knock.
    Marque glanced at his door and scowled fiercely.
    No one was allowed to bother him when his door was closed. No one. Not even his long-time, trusted assistant, Talesin. It was Marque’s most sacred, unbreakable rule. A rule known to every one of his employees.
    It was the only time Marque could have some peace.
    And not even now, with that damned Doll invading my every thought.
    The knock sounded again, louder this time, and to Marque’s utter astonishment, the door eased slowly open.
    Who in the hell would have the balls to—
      “Marque? You okay?”
    Chavis Smith’s face peeked around the wooden door. He obviously saw the outraged expression on Marque’s face, but nonetheless took a step into the room.
    Employees had been fired for far less.
    One of Chavis’s blond eyebrows rose in question. “Bad mood?”
    The remark was idiotic, but the man was not. He was searching for information. In the decade since he’d founded Callex Industries, Marque had a routine that he’d stuck to like clockwork. Personal gym at 5 a.m.  Breakfast at 7 a.m. Office at 8 a.m. Then work until the work was done, however long it took.
    “Where were you yesterday?” Smith asked, not so casually.
    Marque scowled. If not for Chavis’s position here and his personal claim on Marque… “I
    went out  to