Randar (Intergalactic Soulmates Book 1)

by Annabelle Rex

  She moaned against his mouth as he explored her, dipping a finger inside her as his thumb massaged her clit, her breath coming short as he teased pleasure out of her. She was so close to the edge already, driven wild by his tender attentions and his white hot kisses.

  The backs of her legs bumped up against the bed, but Randar held her to him, keeping her upright as he worked his finger in and out of her, supporting more and more of her weight as her legs turned to jelly beneath her. She reached for his cock, running her hand up and down the length of it. Randar growled deep in his throat, the sound of it adding heat to the flames his fingers were stoking. She kissed him hard, stroking his cock as he drove her higher and higher.

  “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her neck. “Come for me.”

  She wrapped her arms round his broad shoulders, crying out as her orgasm rocked through her. Randar continued massaging her clit through the aftershocks, leaving her whimpering.

  Then his hand retreated, and he was scooping her up into his arms, carrying her around the side of the bed. He held her easily, lowering her to the centre of the mattress like she was something precious to be handled carefully. He lay beside her, running his fingers through her hair, one leg over hers, his body pressed against her.

  “You like my hair?” she said.

  “My people don’t have hair,” he said. “It’s a novelty for me. Beautiful. I love the colour of it. Like sunlight.”

  “No hair at all? Not even the women?”

  “No,” Randar said. “Yours is the first I’ve ever played with.”

  He twined a lock around his finger, giving it a gentle tug before releasing it.

  “Mmm, do you think you’d like to brush it for me? I love having my hair brushed by someone else.”

  “If that’s something you enjoy, I’d like to do it for you,” he said.

  His words brought such a sweet joy to her heart. She hated that she’d doubted him, when she had no cause to except her own paranoia. She shifted so she was facing him, not wanting to spoil the moment with her fears, but needing to speak them, as if voicing them could exorcise them from her mind.

  “Human guys don’t normally find me attractive,” she said. “I’m too big, too tall. I get stared at a lot, but not in a good way. When we first met I thought you were looking at me like that, too.”

  Randar put a hand to her face, brushing a thumb over her lips.

  “When I first heard I’d been Matched with a Human, I was worried,” he said. “Your kind are so small, so fragile looking. I didn’t want to be Matched with someone I’d have to be careful of. And then I met you and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. You were so perfect, so overwhelming, I could hardly get words out to talk to you.”

  She wanted to bask in the compliment, but the words were bubbling up inside her now, and she had to get them out, to purge herself of her insecurities so she could just enjoy being with this incredible man.

  “And then today that slime ball told me I must have been desperate to sign up for the program, and then tried to hit on me, even though he’s married. He made me feel dirty and stupid.”

  Randar’s face scales were glowing a bright blue. “I knew that djvorit said something to you.”

  It was the first time Angela had heard a word she couldn’t understand. “Dj… what was that?”

  “Djvorit,” Randar repeated. “It’s a type of lizard on my home planet, Karrath. It eats the excrement of other lizards.”

  Angela couldn’t help it, she started laughing. “Djvorit. That is the perfect description.”

  Randar wrapped her in his arms, holding her close. “I’m sorry you had to go through that. I should have collected you from here. I was only thinking that my office was closer to the restaurant, and I’d have more time with you if you met me there. I didn’t consider…”

  Angela pressed a finger to his lips. “I’m the one who should be apologising. I couldn’t let myself just enjoy our date after that. I started second guessing everything, thinking maybe I was desperate. So desperate to be desired that I had been putting a positive spin on every interaction we’d had. I started thinking maybe you were just happy to have anyone, that it wouldn’t have mattered if you’d swapped me out for some other girl…”

  Randar smothered her mouth in a hard, demanding kiss, his hands back in her hair. He gave her no room for thought, or doubt, filling her with the sensation of his tongue tangling with hers. Heat started to build between her legs, her body revving up again, as one of his hands trailed down her back to cup her backside.

  “I don’t want any other girl,” he said, voice low and hoarse. “I want you, dancing round my living room with Trix, or concentrating so hard on cooking you don’t even notice me walking in. I want to discover lots of new foods with you, and travel to different places with you.” He looked at her, yellow eyes blazing. “And right now, I really want to fuck you.”

  “Yes,” Angela moaned as he pushed her onto her back, parting her legs and settling himself between them.

  He was so big, his chest so broad, that Angela felt tiny beneath him. She ran her hands across his chest scales, marvelling at the deep orange glow that spread across them. His cock probed at her entrance and she let out a needy little gasp, wanting him inside her.

  “Randar,” she said, her voice all breath and want.

  He thrust inside her, making her cry out, the pleasure instant and intense.

  “Stars, you feel good,” Randar moaned.

  He held still a moment, one arm beneath her, the other moving from her thigh, up her torso to her face, where he brushed back her hair before leaning in to kiss her.

  He started moving, slowly at first, drawing his hips back then driving back in. Angela gripped his shoulder with one hand, exploring the planes of his back with the other, as he set a driving rhythm, building speed and intensity with every thrust. She wrapped her legs around him, encouraging him deeper, moaning against his mouth as the pleasure built, white hot inside her.

  Soon they were both gasping, their bodies slick with sweat, skin sliding over skin. Randar kept one hand tangled in her hair, the gentle tug of her movement against his grip a counterpoint to the pleasure shivering through her. Too breathless to kiss, Randar pressed his face against her neck, his breath and lips hot against her pulse point.

  Angela threw her head back, chest heaving, so close to the edge of release her body felt full of fire and electricity. Randar dipped his head to her breasts, nuzzling them, dropping kisses along her collarbone and up to her neck. Her body shuddered and spasmed, and she cried out. Randar pumped his hips into her a few more times, then reached his own climax with a roar.

  “What are the colours about?” Angela asked, trailing her fingers over the scales on his chest. They were soft, pliant beneath her fingers, dry and warm. Not like skin, but not unpleasant. Just unusual. Where her fingers touched, the colours flared, flashing through orange and green. “Is it just random, or do they mean something?”

  “They project our emotions,” Randar said, his voice still a little rough.

  He was lying on his back, and she was tucked into his side, her leg draped across his. He’d pulled the covers up to their waists, but they were still too hot, too sweat soaked, to need them entirely.

  “What emotion is orange?” She brushed a thumb over the line of scales at his cheek. “They’re orange a lot.”

  “Desire,” he said, without a hint of amusement or shame. His own hand went to her face, mimicking the path her thumb traced. His touch sent shivers through her.

  “And green?” she said, smiling as orange and green glowed across his arms and chest.

  “Happiness.” He drew her in for a brief, almost chaste kiss. “Red for pain, blue for anger, white for fear, yellow for sadness. On Karrath, almost all creatures use colour in their scales, and all the colours mean the same thing, from little lizards that would fit in the palm of your hand to my people, the Karrathu. The scientists think it’s mostly a warni
ng system - a way of showing you’re dangerous to other creatures. When something’s scales change to blue, you know to back off. But it’s also a way of communicating with each other. As Karrathun evolved, we developed language and tools and cooperation, and no longer needed the colours. But they’re still there.”

  “Like an appendix,” Angela said, “just prettier.”

  “What’s an appendix?”

  “It’s an organ that Humans have to digest grass, but we don’t eat it anymore, so the organ has shrunk down. Sometimes it goes wrong and makes you ill and you have to have it removed.”

  “That sounds inconvenient.”

  “Very. Fortunately it doesn’t happen to everyone. I suppose in the future we’ll be able to correct these issues. Become a bit more efficient as a species. No more pesky appendectomies.”

  Randar shook his head. “A little bit of imperfection is good. Remove too much of it and you end up like the Allortasians.”

  “What happened to them?”

  “Nearly wiped themselves out, fiddling with their genetics too much.”

  “Isn’t Prince Cael Allortasian?”

  “I said ‘nearly’.” Randar rolled on to his side, running a hand from her cheek, down her arm. Her body was still alive to his touch, skin tingling wherever his hands roamed. “Fortunately for the rest of us, their mishap resulted in the DNA Match Program, so we get to benefit.”

  Angela closed her eyes a moment, breathing in his scent and basking in his warm closeness. She’d never much enjoyed sharing a bed with someone, but perhaps that was just because she’d never shared a bed with the right person.

  “I really wasn’t sure the program worked,” she said, twisting so her back was to him, tucking up against his broad chest and manoeuvring his arms so they encircled her. He held her close, and Angela felt, for the first time in her life, small in his arms.

  “I know you weren’t,” he said, his breath tickling the back of her neck, her skin still sensitive. “Are you sure now?”

  “Hmm, I may take a little more convincing,” she said, teasing. “A few more nights like tonight should do it.”

  “As many nights like tonight as you desire,” he said, a laugh in his voice. “I’m just happy you took a chance on the program. It will be my pleasure to convince you.”

  Chapter 11

  ANGELA WALKED INTO THE BATHROOM WHILE Randar was cleaning his teeth, wearing her long t-shirt. She cast her eyes up and down his naked form, before turning to the mirror to examine her wild hair.

  “It is going to take more than three minutes to sort this mess out,” she said.

  Randar looked at the time. Still early. He finished what he was doing, then rinsed his mouth with water and turned to her.

  “I do have an override,” he said. “I might be persuaded to use it.”

  “An override?”

  Randar shrugged. “It’s assumed that I might need more than three minutes to get clean from time to time.”

  Angela chewed her bottom lip, her eyes travelling up and down his body again.

  “And what could I do to persuade you?” she said.

  Randar closed the space between them, grabbing the hem of her shirt and pulling it up over her head. He turned her, positioning her so she was bent over, her hands braced against the counter, then moved behind her, running his hand over her back.

  “I want to fuck you like this,” he said.

  “Yes,” Angela said, breathy excitement in her voice.

  He could see she was already wet, her responsive body aching for him as much as he ached for her.

  “Do you like it hard and fast?” he asked, coating his cock in her juices, teasing her by sliding the head through her folds.

  “Yes,” she moaned, pressing her hips back to him.

  “Good,” he said, and slammed himself into her.

  Afterward, he washed her hair with bodywash, massaging the bubbles through her locks.

  “We should get you proper shampoo,” he said, kneading her scalp with his fingers.

  “And conditioner,” she said. “Especially if you’re going to continue making such a wild mess of it every night. And morning.”

  Randar laughed. “I have no intention of stopping.”

  “Good to know.”

  He got dressed for work, Angela dressing beside him. He enjoyed watching her put clothes on almost as much as he enjoyed taking them off her. The simple domesticity of it filled him with a deep sense of contentment.

  His Match.

  His woman.

  He could definitely get used to this.

  “Tonight we’ll talk about what you want to do with days up here, so you don’t have nothing to do all day while I’m at work,” he said as he pulled on his shoes. “Would you mind making dinner again?”

  He sounded pathetically hopeful. Angela laughed.

  “I’d like to do that,” she said. “I like cooking, remember?”

  He was pretty sure his grin couldn’t have stretched any wider, and he hadn’t stopped grinning as he walked into Tarkken’s office, if Tarkken’s raised eyebrows were anything to go by.

  “Someone’s in a good mood,” the head of security said. “Lockdown didn’t put too much of a dampener on your evening plans, then?”

  “Angela and I had a good talk,” Randar said. “I think we understand each other a little better now.”

  “Talking doesn’t leave you smiling like that,” Tarkken said, rolling his eyes. “Fine, be coy, I’ll get it out of you next time we have a drink together.”

  “We’re planning drinks?” Cael said, entering the room at just that moment.

  “Yes, sir,” Tarkken said, turning a wicked grin on Randar. “Randar’s buying. He’s got some stories to tell.”

  “Oh?” Cael said, giving Randar a searching look.

  Whatever he was looking for, he must have seen it, for Cael’s smile widened, his eyes lighting up.

  “You’ve figured things out with Angela?” he said.

  “They’ve been having good talks,” Tarkken said.

  Randar didn’t try to stop his grin, or the colours showing bright green happiness on his face.

  “Perhaps there is hope for this venture yet,” Cael said.

  By lunch time, Randar and Cael were both starting to feel there was no hope at all. A morning of talking with military leaders, trying to progress peace talks between two warring factions to no avail, had left Randar exhausted, and he hadn’t had to do any of the talking. Cael had promised both sides medical support, resources and assistance with rebuilding infrastructure, but the bad blood ran deep, and no amount of sweeteners would get the two men to cease hostilities.

  Randar wanted to spend his lunch break with Angela, but he sensed Cael would appreciate company, so he joined him in his office, eating a simple, protein rich meal made from synth-meats and vegetables, so different to the fancy meal in the restaurant the day before. Tarkken joined them, too, able to relax now that the two military leaders were on separate shuttles back to Earth. It gave Randar a small amount of pleasure that the two represented regions so fractious that the nearest shuttles were several hundred miles away - they would have some travelling ahead of them. Plenty of time to think on their idiocy.

  “I’ve been searching our histories for paths forward,” Cael said, sighing as he pushed his meal around his plate. “But I continue to be at a loss. The conflicts on this planet are so varied and so…”

  “Senseless?” Tarkken said.

  Cael shook his head. “They make sense to the people embroiled in them. They may seem ridiculous to us, but we have to be respectful of the hurt and hardship suffered. For some of these people, it’s all they’ve ever known. Their culture’s entire living memory is made up of conflicts. It’s complicated, difficult to tease apart. Not helped by the fact that so many of them are unwilling to give any sort of concession.” He shook his head, trying to project a more positive demeanour and mostly succeeding. “Perhaps we will fare better with our guests thi
s afternoon.”

  Randar doubted it somehow. It was the British delegation visiting this afternoon - including Andrew Carter, who Randar would have been happy to never have to look at again after what he’d said to Angela. While they were quite happy to put clinics in place in exchange for some medical advances, they were resistant to promoting the program any more than they already had, or making any sort of institutional changes in their society, without extortionate compensation. Cael had shown them societal models of how planets could function successfully, in harmony with the environment while also achieving progress. But Humans were so rigid about their borders, their countries. It was currently beyond them to see a way to a united, single governance system.

  “I still don’t understand why the uptake rate of the DNA Match program is so low in a country like Britain,” Tarkken said. “They’re not at war with anyone, they’ve got a democratic government and social welfare… You’d think these Western nations would be the first to engage.”

  “Britain isn’t a country,” Cael said, absentmindedly, his thoughts quite obviously elsewhere. “Isn’t Angela British?”

  “She is,” Randar said.

  “Do you think she’d be willing to answer some questions? She’s got no agenda, perhaps we’ll get a better understanding from her.”

  Randar shrugged a shoulder. “I can ask.”

  “So, what can I help with?” Angela said, smoothing her hands over her clothes in the way she did when she was nervous. Randar gave her a smile, hoping it would relax her some. She gave him a small smile back.

  “We’re trying to better understand what makes Humans tick,” Cael said. “And what we might do better to persuade them to sign up to the Match Program.”

  “Okay,” Angela said, chewing slightly on her bottom lip. “Can I ask you a question first?”

  “Of course,” Cael said, gesturing for her to go ahead.

  “Why is the Match Program so important to you?”