Fighting For Their Mate. Grace Goodwin
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I breathed, wiggling my hips, but the hold on my waist kept me from moving, from lowering myself onto his hard length like I wanted to. I wanted him deep. Stretching me. Fucking me like a wild thing. Out of control.
“Bossy, isn’t she?” the one who’d licked my pussy said. He’d stood, but I still couldn’t see his face. Dreams were strange, blocking out the features of the man who’d eaten me out, but didn’t hide his naked body, his lean torso, the big cock that thrust toward me, eager to be inside. But I already had a cock in me, sliding in, retreating, going even deeper.
I reached for the huge cock in front of me, wrapped my fingers around the head and used my leverage on his sensitive organ to pull him toward me. Slowly, so I could take my time. Look. Lick my lips. Make him wait. Torment him the way he’d tormented me.
He chuckled and lifted a hand to trace the soft line of my jaw, my lower lip. “You won’t get fucked, mate, until my cock is in that hot mouth.”
Behind me, the other man froze, holding me in place, suspended in the air, half impaled. Desperate.
With a smile, I pulled the cock closer and leaned forward, closing my mouth around the tip.
“Thank the gods.” The roar behind me made me smile in satisfaction as my mate thrust up, hard and fast, burying himself in my tight pussy as my other mate thrust his hips forward, pushing his length into my open mouth.
His taste exploded on my tongue, nothing I’d ever experienced before. But she had. This woman whose sexual fantasy I was somehow hijacking. He tasted divine. Like heat and musk and man, and I sucked him deep, playing with his balls as the man behind me fucked me, my breasts bouncing with the force of his thrusts.
The pleasure built in my mind. Mine. Theirs. It was strange and overwhelming and wonderful as we all shattered together, my pussy clamping down on one mate as my mouth sucked down on the other. Locking us together.
One.
Perfect.
Aftershocks rolled through me and the men’s voices grew softer, whispering words of love. Praise. Worship. I wanted to drown in it. Roll around in it. No one had ever talked to me like that. So much love. Devotion. Trust.
I never wanted it to end. But the voices faded. The room drifted in my mind like a dream melting away. I tried to hold onto it, but it faded. Left me bereft. Alone.
Cold.
Wherever I was, it was freaking cold. My body, my real body, shivered underneath a very lightweight fabric.
I startled awake, stared up at the plain white ceiling. I was breathing hard as if I’d run the hundred-meter dash, my skin damp with sweat. And my pussy? It ached from being filled with cock.
With imaginary cock.
I blinked, realized I was in the testing chair at the Interstellar Brides Processing Center. The testing. That hadn’t been a dream, exactly. But what was it? The warden said the Coalition had such advanced technology that they could look into my mind, see exactly what I needed in a mate. Not wanted. Needed.
Did I need two lovers? I’d never once considered it before. But, God, was it hot. Sexy. Sooo sexy.
My mother was probably rolling over in her grave. Again. I’d thought the same thing five years ago when I volunteered for the Coalition Fleet Intelligence Core.
Warden Egara moved around the table to stand before me, tablet in hand. She didn’t look surprised by my abrupt awakening from the testing, nor my current condition. Sweat covered. Pussy swollen and aching—not that she knew about that. But panting. Wishing I was still out in space, or wherever that was, and not in this stupid exam room feeling like a science experiment strapped to a dentist’s chair wearing a thin hospital gown.
“Was that supposed to happen? Did I fall asleep? Was that a dream?” I asked, licking my lips.
I was parched from screaming, but had I really done that? Or had I screamed in my dream with this severe, and very serious woman standing watch over me? I flushed hotly at the possibility.
“Yes. The technology assesses your deepest subconscious thoughts to discover your perfect match from available warrior candidates.”
My deepest thoughts were to get it on with two men? I’d never done it. Sure, I’d thought about a threesome. What woman hadn’t? Sandwiched between two hot guys? I’d be down with it, but so far in life, I’d barely been interested in keeping one boyfriend, let alone two. But if it would be like that dream? I was okay with it.
“During the testing, I read your file,” she said. Her tone was crisp, professional. She was from Earth, but worked for the Coalition, at least the Brides branch of it. Her uniform was a dark rust color, unadorned and familiar.
“Four years in the Coalition Fleet. Impressive.” She moved to prop her hip against the table in the middle of the small room. “I assume I’d be more impressed if most of your time in service wasn’t sealed.”
“I’m confused. I don’t know what you’re talking about.” There it was. The standard answer popping out of my mouth on automatic pilot. I couldn’t talk about any of it. Not with her. Not with anyone.
But I had to get back out into space. I was suffocating here. Drowning in the minutia of a nine-to-five job. Drab apartment. Bills. Bullshit television shows. Surrounded by people I had nothing in common with. Earth? This just didn’t feel like home anymore. I wanted back in space and volunteering as a bride was how I was going to do it.
3
Captain Dorian Kanakor, Prillon Warrior, Coalition ReCon Shuttle
I grabbed Captain Seth Mills by the wrist in my anger, but as I expected of a warrior, he pulled away and stepped close to confront me. He was nearly as tall as I, large for a human. And his strange blue eyes blazed with challenge.
And pain.
A pain I shared every day.
“What the fuck, Dorian?” Seth scowled at me, his voice carrying over the small number of warriors huddled around us. We were all sweat soaked and covered in grime from hours of battle on the freighter. But the room was almost silent as my crew and his ReCon team waited to see what was about to happen.
It wasn’t often the commander himself connected with us. Hell, it was even less often that one of us was assigned a bride.
“I need to speak with you, Mills. Alone.” I toned down the irritation in my voice, knowing that any challenge would surely be met with resistance, not the level-headed cooperation I needed for this insane idea to work. An idea that had just come into my head after hearing the commander’s news.
He studied me for mere seconds before turning to the co-pilot, a sassy Earth female named Trinity. “You get us back to the Karter.” He turned, meeting the eyes of his second-in-command, another large human warrior I’d come to respect. “Jack, you’ve got the con.”
I didn’t wait for their agreement and my crew needed no such instruction, the chain of command as natural as breathing. Leaving their curious gazes behind, I led the way to the very small supply storage unit at the back of the shuttle. This escape vessel wasn’t meant to hold many people. With all of ReCon 3 plus the survivors from my crew, the small ship neared capacity. But Seth followed me into the small space and I sat on a crate of emergency medical supplies. He sat opposite me as the door slid closed, sealing us in.
His calculating gaze leveled on me and he waited. Silent. Patient. I had no choice but to begin.
“My cousin, Orlinthe, was killed in battle a few months ago.”
“I remember,” Seth agreed. And he should. We’d all gotten drunk together more than once on the Karter over the last three years. When Orlinthe had been lost