Wickedest Witch (23 page)

“What the frukx is that?” It didn’t look like the illustrations he’d seen of Earth’s aquatic species. He wrinkled his nose at the stench, a briny, wet fish odor. Toeing the pale creature, he whipped his pistol out when it grunted.

What he’d mistaken for seaweed moved, and then, lifted until he found himself face to face with a face, a pale humanoid one. Big, brown eyes shot with red streaks blinked at him and blue lips parted on a gasp.

“Holy shit. You’re like Han Solo on crack,” croaked the human.  And with those strange words, the Earthling he’d accidentally abducted, slumped forward again. Its eyes rolled back in its head and its forehead smacked into the grated flooring.

“Ah, frukxn’ crap.”  Tren braced his hands on his hips and grimaced down at the sodden mess. Kill the Earthling or keep it? He got the impression it was female, although given its contorted position and bedraggled state, it could have also been an effeminate male.  Either way, he didn’t want it. There wasn’t a large market for Earthlings, not given their temperament. The females especially tended to cry all the time and descend into hysterics, especially when introduced to their new masters. Apparently, they took issue with the whole sold as a sex slave thing. It was why Tren stuck to creatures. They couldn’t talk back.

I wonder if I can just drop her off somewhere on her planet.
He discounted that idea almost immediately. One, he couldn’t be bothered. And two, medical expeditions learned their lesson after the Earthlings who came back after an abduction freaked, telling all who would listen about probes and needles.
Like we’d use such archaic forms of technology.
It made him sneer. Most of the civilized worlds considered Earth a barbarian planet, one bent on destroying its natural resources. It was why he’d made a trip to pick up specimens. At the rate they currently destroyed their oceans, he figured it wouldn’t be long now before the whole planet expired, making what he’d grabbed a possible rarity.

Not that he cared about their fate. The galaxy had more than enough viable planets and sentient races. They wouldn’t miss the loss of one backwards planet out in the far reaches.

But what to do about the Earthling?
He raised his pistol to end the human’s life, but hesitated. What had it meant when it called him Han Solo on crack? His translator didn’t know what to make of it, and dammit, now he found himself curious.

I’ll kill it after I find out.
Decided, he holstered his gun and then crouched to grab the limp body. He rolled the human onto its back and that’s when he noticed the damage done to the female. And female she certainly was with her plentiful bosom spilling from the top of a soaking rag—only two  breasts, though, instead of a lush four or five. He ignored her feminine attributes as he took in her twisted leg, broken in at least three places he’d wager.

I’m surprised she didn’t scream her head off when she woke there for a moment.
Probably shock kept her from noticing her injury. She’d certainly have plenty to say when she woke again—blubbering and gushing tears he couldn’t abide. For a moment, he again debated just shooting her now before he had to put up with lunatic raving, but stopped at the sight of her looking so utterly helpless. He cursed as he holstered his gun. He, the coldest killer in the known galaxies, couldn’t kill her.
That’s it. I need to go on a mission before I turn into a complete frukxning softy.
He’d let his contacts know he was back in business as soon as he got rid of his cargo, including one sure-to-be-annoying female.

He slid his hands under her plump frame and drew her toward him before standing with her cradled in his arms.  With no effort on his part—he kept himself in impeccable shape—he carried her to the end of the walkway and the equipment lift. A short elevator ride later, he spilled onto an upper level where he kept his room and the medical chamber.

Curiosity made him peek at her while he carried her. Her skin appeared pale, extremely so and beneath its surface he could see a fragile network of veins. He would have called her unblemished but noticed her skin appeared marred by a strange line of pale dots across the bridge of her nose.
That’ll decrease her value.
She sported dark lashes and brows at odds with her pale colored hair that streaked from a light gold to a dark brown. Her lips, an odd blue color, were full, and through their parted seam he could see white teeth, flat edged, making him wonder if perhaps her kind were herbivores. Her body filled his arms, opulent and soft, yet not obscenely so. The wet fabric she wore molded to the round fullness of her breasts and clung to her prominent nipples.

To his disbelief, his groin tightened at the sight. Apparently, he’d waited too long between brothel visits if this pale, sodden female could incite lust, especially considering she only owned two breasts—a common trait among her kind or a genetic abnormality?

Disgusted with himself and his interest in her as a copulating partner, he dumped her onto the diagnostic table in his medical room. The repair and diagnostic unit descended from the ceiling with a whir. Tren punched in a few commands on the device and then walked away, only to return a moment later when the machine beeped.

“Stupid machine. It can heal anything, but it can’t stand wet clothes,” he grumbled. He grasped the damp fabric adorning her frame and tore it in half before peeling it from her body. Womanly curves greeted him and, despite her dual mounds, he hungrily drank the sight of her in from the dark blush of her nipples to the brown thatch between her legs. His hand couldn’t help but trace the round softness of her belly with its intriguing hole in the middle. He wondered what it was for, and had to admit it made her body intriguing to behold, a fact his hardening cock agreed with.

With a curse at his lack of control, he whirled and stomped out of the chamber, letting the unit do its work. His clothes, damp and stinking of the Earth’s ocean, required changing and he proceeded to his chambers to do so. He dropped his soiled garments in the ship’s cleansing unit before dressing in a clean and dry outfit. It was as he tucked his shirt into his pants that it occurred to him he’d have to clothe the female.

Or let her run around naked
, his mind whispered with a dirty chuckle. His cock twitched at the thought. Tren tightened his lips into a thin line.
I am definitely visiting a brothel at my next stop.

Not owning any feminine garments, he snagged a spare shirt and pants of his. He’d pick her up some clothes in one of his docking ports. Or he’d sell her naked, whichever he thought would fetch him a better price.

Knowing the medical unit would require a few more galactic units to complete its work, he went back to the command center, the spare clothes bundles under his arm. He wanted to do more research on Earthling females and discover ways of muzzling them, because with his luck, she’d probably end up the noisy, wailing type.

And all males know the only time a woman should speak is during sex when she screams our name.

Accidental Abduction, Book One in the Alien Abduction series, is available for purchase at all major online stores.

Talk about hypnotic—and cock hardening. The bouncing little ass, which he almost bumped into—at just the right height—bobbed from side to side right outside his apartment door. The owner of the delectable bottom, bent over out of sight, hummed as she gyrated. Indecent shorts covered her creamy globes, but barely. Her apparel appeared at least a size too small given the amount of cheek peeking from the ragged hems. Hell, in her current position, he could even tell she shaved, a fact his dick approved of, which of course irritated him to no end.

Chase didn’t know whether he should slap the round buttocks to get the female’s attention, or growl at her to get out of the way. Curbing his third urge, which involved grinding himself against the inviting bottom— preferably naked—he cleared his throat. “Ahem.”

Silky platinum, almost white hair flew up to slap him in the face as the woman straightened. The skein of hair caught on the bristles of his jaw and he shook his head with a grumble as he spat out the strand that got in his mouth. A whiff of her shampoo, an intoxicating raspberry flavor, made his tummy rumble, but not in hunger, unless carnal counted.

With a twirl, the flexing female faced him with a full-lipped smile that seemed much too cheerful this time of the morning. “Well, hello there, neighbor,” she chirped, her brightness so sweet he ached for his toothbrush. “Sorry I’m in the way. I was just warming up for my morning jog. I don’t think we’ve met. I just moved in to apartment nine C.” She thrust her hand out and twitched her nose at him as she continued to beam.

Chase scowled as he ignored her outstretched hand. One whiff and he could tell she didn’t belong to the human genome. Damned bunnies and their sunny natures. How could he properly rebuke her with her grinning like the world’s cutest simpleton? A guy bunny he could have cuffed upside the head, but a girl one… Somehow he didn’t think gagging her with his cock was the way to chastise her. “So you were the reason why I didn’t get to sleep in on Saturday? Could your moving guys have been any louder?”

Her vivid green eyes blinked, her lips lost their lilt, and he noticed a smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose. “But it was eleven o’clock in the morning. The landlord assured me it would be fine. Did you go to bed late?”

He fixed a glare on her and replied in a haughty tone, “I like at least a good sixteen hours on the weekend, eighteen even sometimes. Because of your ruckus, though, I only got a measly fourteen.” With winter only slowly losing its grip on the city, the urge to hibernate in his bed remained hard to shake.

“Hmm, last time I spent that long in bed, it wasn’t because I was sleeping,” she sassed with a wink.

The innuendo was impossible to miss, and while an insane urge to drag her back to his bedroom and test his bed’s springs did cross his mind, he instead feigned ignorance and frowned. “Then you should get a better mattress. Sleep should never be neglected.” He fixed her with a hard stare. “Or interrupted.”

A grin curled her lips and displayed gleaming white teeth. “Aww, aren’t you the most adorable grumpy bear,” she sassed with a wink. “Tell you what. I’ll make it up to you. Let me fix you some dinner.”

Hmm, naked wet bunny on a plate?
“No,” he growled.

“Freshly baked chocolate chip cookies?”

No, but he knew a sweet pastry he’d like to taste.
Damn.
His mind refused to get out of the gutter this morning. “No.”

Her nose twitched. “Massage?”

Greasy hands sliding all over his body and over his dick. Yeah that sounded like a plan.
Hunh, wait a second.
“No.” Chase needed to leave before the hard-on in his pants tore through the fabric and went after the little bunny’s pie, but she stood squarely in front of him, looking and smelling much too yummy.

Not at all perturbed by his negative replies, the luscious female rabbit tapped her chin with a finger as her eyes, narrowed in thought, held his gaze. He stared right back, trying to appear ferocious. She didn’t seem to notice. Cocking her head to the side, she eyed him up and down. Despite himself, he sucked his stomach in, bulking up his already massive chest. A bear did have his pride after all.

“I think I’ll just surprise you,” she said with a wink and a lick of her lips.

His cock jerked as Chase almost went cross-eyed at the thought of what she might do—naked. “Please don’t,” he grumbled. Too late. The bunny, whose name he’d never gotten, sprinted off, her silken hair bouncing down her back, drawing attention to the exposed round cheeks of ass, her slap-me, bite-me, plow-me, perfect ass.

A long-suffering sigh escaped him.
I must really need to get laid if even small, woodland creatures are turning me on.

Read the F.U.C story that began it all, Bunny and the Bear. Available at all major online stores.

Up close, the cyborg proved formidable. Naked but for a strip of cloth around his loins, muscles delineated every part of his body, from his bulging arms, much thicker than her thighs, to his overdeveloped chest, to legs that looked like they could run for miles. He was a prime example of what a male could look like if he exercised for hours daily and took steroid supplements. Despite his massive bulk, she couldn’t deny his attractiveness. Only a woman made of stone would not have found herself affected by the prominent virility displayed before her. It shamed her that, despite her trepidation and dislike of the
thing
in front of her, her body responded with a quiver in her belly not entirely owed to fear.

She studied him more closely, seeking a flaw to latch onto. Something that would help her mind recognize she looked not upon a man, but a machine.

Platinum hair, shaved almost to the scalp, stood up in bristles, but when he raised his head to look at her, she noted that, apart from his light eyebrows and oddly dark lashes, he possessed no facial hair at all. Even his chest appeared bare. She refused to let her eyes look any lower, fighting a curiosity that wondered if the follicular lack continued to his private parts. Even more interesting, she noted no metallic parts. Images she’d seen of cyborgs in the past tended to show them sporting mechanical appendages or the shiver-inducing computerized eyes.