Her Rogue Mates. Grace Goodwin
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up, to enjoy my break between missions. There wasn’t much time for a fling with a mysterious alien man I’d never seen before, and one who’d be gone in a matter of hours, most likely never to be seen again. A fling? No. A quick fuck? Maybe that could work. But I sure as heck didn’t want to be in the middle of hot sex with a stranger and have the mission alarms trigger.
Hold that orgasm, dear. I have to go…
There would be no leaving in the middle. Not with this guy. But I really wanted the orgasm—or two—that I knew he’d give me.
He wasn’t wearing the uniform of any Coalition branch I recognized. He wore unrelenting black from head to toe—even his hair was as dark as pitch. He had a thick silver stripe around one bicep, but no other variation. Only his eyes held color. Green. He was pale, perhaps even paler than me, which was surprising since I was full-on Nordic blonde, with an Irish dad and mom’s family history traced back to Norway. I burned just talking about the sun.
“Lucky me.” I gave my coyest smile. I was no expert at flirting, but I wasn’t a shy virgin either. This would go nowhere past a quickie. I’d never see him again once the next call came down. So why the hell not? For now, I’d have fun, remember that I was a woman—even in the unisex, bland uniform—and that he was very much a male.
He turned his hand, interlocking our fingers. “Do you have wounds anywhere else?”
“No.” Sex-on-a-stick didn’t let go of my hand. He was the most amazing specimen of a male I’d ever seen. And I’d been around. Los Angeles was full of man candy, actors and models, surfers and musicians. I came from the land of silicone breasts, Botox and gluteal implants where nothing was real and everyone was gorgeous.
And none of them held a candle to him.
The last two years had been rewarding, and grueling. Most people burned out by the end of their service. I wasn’t there yet, but I was doing some serious flirting with an alien stranger, so perhaps I was showing signs of stress in a completely different way.
Sex could be a good stress reliever. Especially with Joe Manganiello’s alien doppelganger. He’d give me orgasms. Lots of them. Then I could go on my next mission as relaxed and pliable as saltwater taffy.
His gaze dropped and raked over my body, making my nipples harden beneath my bright green uniform. Green meant medical in the Coalition. The docs wore dark, forest green, while we got this lighter version, like emeralds. The color brought out my eyes, I’d been told. There was a thick band of black that hugged the torso. Of course, on the women like me, it only served to highlight the curve of our breasts. I was sure if he wore it instead of his unrelenting black, it would make his chest seem broader. Like that was even possible. He was built like a tank.
He cocked his head to the side and leaned in closer, inhaling deeply. “I still smell blood, female. I am not sure if I believe you. If you were mine, I would strip you bare and assess every inch of your perfect body to ensure you are completely well.”
That made me grin. “You don’t believe me?”
“If you were lying, keeping something as important as your health and safety from me, you would not like the consequences.”
“Consequences?” My heart leapt at the word. I widened my eyes and waited for him to elaborate. My tongue flicked out to lick my suddenly dry lips.
“Punishment,” he said as his eyes followed the motion.
My mouth fell open. I should have been scared. A stranger. An alien stranger, wearing a uniform from an unknown planet, was talking about potentially hurting me. Perhaps he was a mind reader because he said, “I do not hurt females. I protect them, even, it seems, from themselves. A spanking would certainly remind you that there would be no secrets, that your body was mine to care for, to worship.”
Had he just said spanking? As in his big, hot hand on my naked backside? Why was that idea so damn hot? I licked my lips again. “You want to worship me?”
His eyes turned darker. While he kept our fingers intertwined, he hooked his other hand about my waist and tugged me closer. “What I will do to you…” He shuddered and leaned in, his breath fanning my neck as his nose brushed over the curve of my ear. We weren’t alone; the canteen was at least half full, yet it seemed as if we were in our own little bubble. A bubble where all I could see was him. All I could hear was his deep voice. “Learn every soft curve. I’ll find the places that make you catch your breath, that make you shiver with desire. I’ll taste your skin. Your pussy. And that’s all just the beginning. I will worship you with my mouth.”
To say the temperature of the room went way up was an understatement. My uniform was all at once uncomfortable and had too much fabric. I wanted his palm to be touching the bare skin on my back, and preferably moving a few inches lower so he could grab my—
“Do you want to know what I’d do with my fingers?” He pulled back and dipped his chin so our eyes met. Locked. “Or my cock?”
I swallowed. Hard. My mouth watered at the mention of his cock. “Wow, you’re really good at this.” My voice had a breathy quality I didn’t recognize. “My apologies for thinking you had no game.”
“What game do you speak of?” he asked, stepping back and tugging me away from the bar. My hand still in his, he pulled me around into a hallway. I let him, abandoning my beer. The hallway was short, with one door at the end lit with a white outline to indicate an emergency exit.
“Picking up women.”
With a quick flick of his wrist, my back was against the wall, and he was pressed against me. I felt every hard inch of him and suppressed a moan. My hands were above my head, held in place by his firm but gentle grip. He leaned over me until I was completely immersed in his heat. His free hand came to rest on the curve of my hip, the touch like lightning to my system. I didn’t try to get away. I didn’t want to. He felt good. Too good.
“I assume that phrase is used on Earth. If I were to pick you up, you would be over my shoulder.”
“It means you got me here, alone with you, and I don’t even know your name.” Did I just look at his lips? Yes. Yes, I did. And I wanted to know what they felt like against mine, what he tasted like. I looked up to find him watching me intently.
His eyes did that roving thing again, took in my mouth, my neck, my breasts. “You wish to know my name before I kiss you?”
My panties were now ruined. So was my self-control. “Name would be good. Maybe tell me where you’re from.”
He did the hair tucking thing again and my legs turned to jelly. “My name is Styx. I am part of the Styx legion on Rogue 5.”
I frowned. Weird names. “You have a part of a planet named after you?” His finger slid down the side of my neck to rub back and forth across the line of my shoulder. His eyes followed the action.
“Rogue 5 is a moon base. I am the leader of the Styx legion, therefore, the name is mine.”
“I’ve never heard of Rogue 5,” I admitted, tilting my head to the side to give him better access.
“It is not part of the Coalition.”
That I knew. “Then what are you doing here?”
“I am here meeting a business associate.” The way he said the words business associate reminded me of a Sopranos episode. All that, Hey, I got a guy…
“Is everyone from your world as wild as you are?”
He grinned then, his teeth straight and white. “You think me wild?” He shifted his leg so his knee rested between mine, and I was practically riding his thigh.
My mouth fell open, and he took the opportunity to put the tip of his finger on my lower lip. The touch was calloused even as he applied the softest pressure, rubbing back and forth in a delicious tease.
“Tell me your name.”