Authors: Robin L. Rotham
Monica gave him a cheeky grin. “Homophobic much?”
Kellen stiffened. “No, I’m simply stating a fact, and I’ll state it again in language you can understand—we don’t
swing
that way. Period.”
“So that line you guys fed me about your females pleasuring each other was just—”
“We are not like our females,” he ground out.
“Sure, you’re not,” she snorted.
“Monica…”
He looked like he could chew up a steel girder and spit out nails, so she strangled the laugh that hovered in her chest. Once he’d dressed, he gave her a stern glare and flared out without another word.
That was getting old fast.
*
The pizza had worn off and she was starved beyond belief, but that fucking computer still wouldn’t do anything for her, like open the door or send her food, so she just sat there in the chair where she’d so recently had the living daylights spanked out of her and let her thoughts chase around like a dog after its tail.
Kellen had left nearly three hours ago and she hadn’t seen or heard from him since.
She wished she could figure out that damn flare technology and use it to get herself out of here. It was becoming apparent that he utilized some sort of nonverbal link with the computer—too much stuff seemed to happen without a hint of warning around him, 112
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like flaring and the restraints—but she was damned if she’d ask him. Assuming she ever had the chance.
The flare field drew her restless gaze. Darkness had fallen while she was showering off the cave grime and now she didn’t even have the entertainment of watching the world go by. That was the bad thing about being in geosynchronous orbit—you couldn’t see much when the sun passed beyond the Earth’s rim. There was no television to watch, and she could only stare at that strange sculpture on the table—some sort of winged goddess with remarkably ugly features—for so long before it started to waver eerily in her vision.
She’d poked around in the built-in cabinets earlier, looking for something,
anything
to do—read a book, work a puzzle, play solitaire—and found only clothing. Which had its upside, since some of it appeared to be her size. Too bad Garathani textile designers had so little use for color. The three suits that looked like they’d fit her were gray, black, and white. No underwear, of course, so at least she didn’t have to worry about panty lines. Unfortunately, there were also no socks. Her boots would no doubt be way beyond ripe before the week was out.
She had also found a silky white nightgown tucked in with the suits. She’d slipped it over her head after her shower, studiously ignoring the implications of the action, and been fascinated by her reflection in the flare field. The face was going to take some getting used to, more so now that one cheek was black and blue. But her hair, cut in shining layers of brown and blonde, bounced with healthy vigor every time she moved her head. And her body…
Settling deeper in the chair, she gave in to temptation and slid her hands over the tight mountains of her breasts, disconcerted and yet thrilled when her nipples hardened immediately. Yep, she was definitely built for sin and couldn’t find it in her to regret it even a little.
Monica laid her head back and, shrugging aside a momentary qualm, allowed her hands to continue their exploration of her breasts through the silk. The rush of sensation when her fingers skimmed over her spiked nipples was damn amazing, and she did it again and again, ‘til the areolas were drawn up tight and she was breathing hard. The hunger pangs she’d been feeling were suddenly displaced by a different longing, a little lower, a lot hotter.
Kellen.
Monica stirred on her chair, uncomfortable with the thick knot rising in her throat at the thought of him. He’d had her this morning. Boy, had he had her! Just the memory of how he’d subdued her was enough to elicit some big-time clenching in her nether regions, and she could still feel him forcing her legs open, scraping into her, grinding his seed into her…
Her groan was loud in the unrelenting emptiness of his quarters. Blushing furiously, she looked around to make sure she was still alone.
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Robin L. Rotham
“Idiot,” she huffed on a silent laugh. Like Kellen and Shauss hadn’t already heard all kinds of caterwauling out of her. Good God, just this morning she’d ordered him,
begged
him to fuck her, and clung to him like Velcro while he did exactly that. It was almost impossible to get her head around the concept. She never asked for or expected anything from anyone. Saved a person a hell of a lot of disappointment.
Monica swallowed. She’d refused to beg for his kiss when he took her, and once again, he hadn’t offered it. The action-packed hours afterward had left her little time to brood about it, which was all that had held the disappointment at bay. Then he’d kissed her, truly kissed her, and despite the lack of passion in the moment, she’d found it the sweetest, most satisfying experience of her life. She wanted more. Badly. She wanted to be kissed and petted and adored.
Shit
. Wanting anything that badly was just asking to have it taken away. She needed to get over this now, get her mind on something else before he came back and caught her thinking about him, caught her touching herself…
Her pulse bounded into Mach territory at the image of Kellen catching her masturbating. What would he—what would
they
do to her?
Damn Shauss anyway! She’d gotten pretty worked up, doing that to him in front of Kellen, and it was telling on her now. What in the hell did he have to be pissed off about, anyway? For God’s sake, she’d apparently given him the greatest blowjob in Garathani history and been hung out to dry for her trouble.
She
was the one who should be pissed.
Although she hadn’t started this little journey of self-discovery with the intention of playing with herself, her heart raced as the idea bloomed. Could she do something so blatantly sexual, especially in this alien environment? The thought of getting to know her new body and how it functioned, and maybe getting a little relief out of the deal, was tempting in the extreme.
Especially in this alien environment
…
Chest heaving with excitement and no small amount of tension, Monica slid her hands down her ribs, over the newly concave plane of her stomach, inching her feet apart on the floor as she went. When her hands reached her thighs, her fingertips resting on the hem of the short nightgown, she stopped, waiting.
For what? Lightning to strike?
Taking a deep breath, she curled the fabric between her fingers and pulled it up until her lap was exposed. The sight of her thatch of brown pubic hair made her shudder with arousal. Shit, she was really a woman now. She held the gown against her stomach with her left hand while the right inched downward ‘til her palm covered her silky mound. Spreading her knees wider opened her labia, allowed her fingertips to sink into the damp crevice. She stroked lightly, learning the intimate folds in a way she hadn’t allowed herself in the shower.
When one fingertip found her spur nook, she trembled, circling the opening with avid curiosity. It wasn’t hard to tell when she found her clitoris; her hips jumped and she moaned involuntarily as sparks shot up her belly. Reaching inside, she was 114
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surprised to realize her nook was deep enough to accommodate her middle finger all the way up to her palm. Pulling out raised quite a ruckus with her clitoris but, not quite ready to try for satisfaction just yet, she sent that questing finger farther south, adding another as she went. They slid at once into the slick recess of her vagina, which, in light of her line of work, shouldn’t have been quite so new and fascinating. Did she come equipped with a g-spot?
Closing her eyes, she explored the ledge of flesh where it was supposed to be, rubbing in small circles, gradually applying more pressure. In a flash, tension wound tight in her belly and she choked back a moan at the force of it.
Oh
,
yeah
,
that
’
s gotta be it
.
She backed off the pressure and reached for her clitoris with her thumb. It had risen out of her nook and was very, very sensitive now. Feeling like an extremely bad girl, she sunk her thumb all the way into her nook, and when the knuckle fold scraped over her clitoris, she was shamed and thrilled by the stuttering moan that escaped her. God, she had her vagina full of fingers and her nook full of thumb, and oh, she wanted to come so bad…
*
“Look at her, Shauss,” Kellen said harshly. “That’s an order. Watch her fingers as she fucks herself and tell me you aren’t wild to yank them out and take their place in her cunt.”
“She’s yours,” Shauss insisted, keeping his eyes fixed on the bulkhead. He slouched in what Kellen was coming to think of as his accustomed seat in the corner, his uniform still pooled around his waist. The flare field concealed their presence, and because Monica hadn’t spent enough time around flare technology to detect changes in the air currents when a field was nearby, she had no idea Shauss had been here watching her for most of the afternoon.
“She’s
ours
, you moron!” Kellen growled. “I can’t believe you would let pride keep you from claiming your own mate.”
“Easy enough for you to say. She didn’t just emasculate you in front of Pret.”
“Nor did she you,” Kellen insisted. “For Peserin’s sake, she knelt at your feet and took your cock in her mouth, and I know for a fact she left it intact. How many Garathani men can lay claim to such a privilege? Pret was practically weeping with envy and
I
was so consumed with jealousy,” he admitted reluctantly, “I could have removed your head with my bare hands.
We
’
re
the ones she emasculated.”
“She fucked my ass and made me come!”
“And Ketroc did the same to Pret in front of a dozen witnesses. He’s the one who’ll go down in history books as the pioneer of anal orgasm, and with the ignoble impetus of a rubber dildo in his ass instead of a lovely little mouth sucking his cock.”
“
She
did it to
me
first,” Shauss maintained stubbornly, “and we all know it.”
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Kellen shifted uncomfortably. As jealous as he’d been of Shauss before, it was true that he wouldn’t trade places with him now. He’d realized the significance of Monica’s accomplishment almost at once, and fast on the heels of that realization had come a shameful relief that he hadn’t been her target. Then the irony of his sudden reversal had struck him and he’d ordered Pret to detention before hysteria overwhelmed him.
Shauss was already the injured party—he didn’t need Pret witnessing the reaction and relaying it to others. It could too easily be misinterpreted as humor at Shauss’ expense rather than his own.
“Well, return the favor then, man,” he prodded.
A whimpering sigh drew his eye back to Monica. She was dragging her thumb, wet from its foray into her nook, in lazy, luxurious circles around her clitoris. “Oh, Kellen…”
His whole body seized with lust. She was thinking about him while she stroked herself.
“Now tell me she’s
ours
,” Shauss said in a dampening tone.
“Damn you, Shauss,” Monica groaned. “You were supposed to fuck me.”
“You were saying?”
Shauss couldn’t hide his wry grin, but didn’t concede the point. “Even now she’s sighing over you and ordering me around.”
“I’m at a loss here, Shauss.” Kellen raised his palms. “Monica can order you all she wants, but you are dominant to her, just as I am. And we both know that as much as she hates to admit it, even to herself, she enjoys it every bit as much as we do. What you need to do, for your sake more than hers, is reestablish your mastery of her.”
Knowing the groan that rolled out of Monica then for the warning it was, Kellen ordered tension restraints to stave off her orgasm and grinned at the screech of outrage that followed. Shauss finally chuckled.
“My mastery of her,” he repeated, scratching his chest. “We both know it’s you who have her mastered and I am just along for the ride.” He turned in the low seat and faced Monica. “All right then—you bring her to heel and I’ll follow your lead.”
*
Monica seethed at the neural restraint imposed on her out of the blue. And at such an inopportune moment!
“Kellen, you son of a bitch, where are you?”
A heartbeat later, he appeared out of thin air directly in front of her chair.
“No need to yell,” he said mildly. “I’m right here.”
“No need to—”
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“While it’s been fun watching you play with your cunt, and it’s good to know you can keep yourself entertained when we’re away,” Kellen said, drawing his zipper downward, “I must insist that you not come without my permission.”
“
Your
per—”
“When I release your restraints, you may use your fingers to fuck yourself to orgasm for us,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken.
Monica’s heart pounded at his words. One minute she’d been on the brink of getting herself off and the next Kellen was playing his domination games with her again.
At least they were back in familiar territory. It felt good to be angry with him. Safe.
He kicked his suit and boots into the corner and stood naked in front of her, his cock magnificently long and hard. Now that she’d looked, she couldn’t take her eyes off it.
“I didn’t quite hear you.”
Shaking her head to dispel the fog of lust, she met his eyes. What was he talking about? She hadn’t said anything.
“When I give you an order,” he said patiently, “I expect you to acknowledge it, Monica. You may say, ‘Yes, Commander’ or ‘Yes, Sir’—whichever you prefer.”
Shit! He was deliberately provoking her again, but she needed to come so bad now, she didn’t think she could argue with him.
“I’m waiting.”
She closed her eyes and moaned, torn. God, he’d ordered her to make herself come…for
them
. “Shauss is here?”
“He’s been here all along.”