Forbidden Territory (Galaxy Smugglers Book 3)

by Amelia Wilson

  "Tonight?" I ask. "Is this too sudden? Is this crazy?" Falax kisses me again to shut me up. "A little crazy, yes," he says as he turns me over onto a pile of silk tapestries. "But I'd been working up to ask you this same question anyway."

  “Might as well try, then,” I say.

  “Might as well.”

  He kneels above me already pulling his tight t-shirt over his head. He has an absolutely godlike body. His solid abs ripple and flex with each subtle movement he makes, smooth valleys of definition trailing into a sharp 'V' hiding under his waistband. His knuckles gently brush against my skin as he undoes the buttons on my blouse. As he opens up my shirt further, he leans down to plant soft, delicate kisses from my neck, down my chest until he's nuzzling in between my breasts. I can feel his warm breath against my skin, making my nipples more pronounced.

  Gently, he slides the fabric from my shoulders, winking devilishly as he pulls my pants over my thighs. They're tossed to the side, leaving me exposed in my laciest undies as I spread out on the tapestries, letting the silk and velvet engulf me. Falax crawls over me, granting me a better look at that gorgeous body. He cups his hand over my breast as he gently massages one, then the other with tender fingers.

  A thick, firm imprint against my thigh tells me he's ready to get this going, and I promptly unzip his pants and reach right in to pull him out. His muscle throbs in my hand, the veins prominent and throbbing with tension waiting to be released. I squeeze him a little, rubbing my thumb along his swollen tip, my mind reeling with thoughts of what's to come. I tease the rest of him in between my fingers, pulling a soft moan from his lips as he brushes my panties to the side.

  I’m anticipating his cock, but instead he just barely caresses the outer workings of my vulva, fingers swirling in gentle circles around my lips before he slowly slides them further inside. As he curls his fingers further into me, I can feel warmth dripping over them, and I know I’m ready.

  Without another thought, I reach for him, impatiently rolling his tip in between my soaking lips before really inserting him into me. He presses his body against me as he gently works himself further inside until I've taken all of him in. I sigh into his neck as he thrusts, feeling his thick and veiny erection sliding inside and out.

  I can tell he's getting more worked up. His chest heaves as he grinds, his teeth clenched as he tries to contain himself, even though I don't want him to. Finally, it's too much for him and he picks me up, letting me bob up and down on his cock before he turns and plants my ass down onto an antique table.

  My arms are wrapped around him as my tits bounce between us while he grinds deeper into me. My walls contract around him, seeping with warmth. I have my legs up on his arms, one hand on the table, one hand on my clit as Falax pounds harder into me. Suddenly, I feel it coming, a subtle tingle that spreads from in between my legs and undulates into a massive wave of pleasure that washes over my entire body.

  I call out his name as I come, dripping all over his cock until he gives a deeply pleasured moan, and I can feel him pulsing as his come seeps inside of me. Once he's finished he stands still for a moment, sweaty and tired, letting us both breathe in the silence of the treasure room. I don't expect it, but after a moment he starts to laugh a little, and shortly I'm doing the same. Hell, maybe we are crazy, but the thought of what Falax and I will hopefully create fills me with a new excitement. "Great work," I say, holding out my hand. Falax smiles through his ragged breaths, reaching to shake my hand. "You too," he says, then kisses my forehead. "Hey, here's hoping."

  CHAPTER TWO: EXPECTED

  FALAX

  Becca and I take the elevator down, down, into a dark chamber under the surface of Bach. We’ve been here several times before, as it’s a common gathering place for smugglers and their clients to meet. As I press the button for the lowest level, I can’t help but smirk at Becca. She senses my gaze, giving me the sly side-eye as she punches me lightly in the arm.

  “What?” She asks. “Quit staring at me.”

  “I can’t help it,” I say trying to hide my smile. “What is it that Earth people say? You’ve got a glow around you?”

  “Oh please,” she says rolling her eyes. She’s trying to hide a smile too. “We’re not going to get pregnant that easily.”

  “We? You mean Earthlings and their partners both get pregnant?” Now I’m starting to feel a little uneasy about this whole endeavor.

  “No, silly,” she says assuringly, flipping back her golden brown hair. “Couples on Earth just say ‘we.’ you know, to make the man feel better about his contribution to the whole baby thing.”

  “But…I did help. Didn’t I?”

  “Of course you did, honey,” she says adjusting her long grey jacket. “You made quite the contribution.” I’m a little worried by her sarcastic tone, but she gives me a quick kiss on the cheek before the elevator opens.

  We’re standing in front of a large room now, made completely of concrete. In the center is a large platform where a table waits for us, basking under the light of several lamps from above. Becca and I take our seats, two chairs waiting ominously in front of a much larger cushioned one.

  It’s not often that we meet our clients in person. Typically it means that a particularly important job is about to come our way. I reach under the table and squeeze Becca’s hand. I can’t quite tell if she’s nervous about this meeting, or if her mind is buzzing with thoughts of last night and the weight of the choices we made. I’m guessing it’s the second one.

  Finally, a door opens and a small guide with a holographic clipboard steps out. Behind her is our client, Rissa. Oddly enough, her face reminds me of a snack that Becca said she used to enjoy. A raisin! That's what it was. Rissa's face is concave with wrinkles, her black beady eyes barely visible under her cascading piles of skin.

  The rest of her is invisible under a thick round coat, like a cloak, that wraps in a perfect circle around her spindly legs. It wobbles as she walks towards the table. She opens her large sleeves, and two toy-sized amphibious dogs emerge, croaking excitedly at us as they lick our hands with long slimy tongues. "Behave yourselves, babies!" Rissa's raspy voice calmly commands. The dogs promptly listen, swirling around her chair as she takes her seat in front of us. "They are sweet, aren't they?"

  “Beautiful darlings,” I nod.

  “Well, here you are. My two smugglers,” she says with warm regards. “I’m pleased to finally meet you. Becca, you’re even more beautiful in person. Congratulations on a job well done. You’ve provided me with a great service.”

  The guide with the clipboard hurriedly scribbles her words with importance. Rissa places a crinkly hand on the table, revealing the wrapped treasure we had obtained from her not too long ago. “I’m sure you’re quite familiar with rare materials,” she says as she peels back the linen wrapping. Becca’s grip tightens around my hand as we finally see a gold cube on the table. It pulses with a strange energy, yellow light trailing between carefully crafted ridges and valleys in the material. “What is it?” Becca asks.

  “Due to high-security measures, I’m not allowed to disclose that,” Rissa says with a kind smile. “However, I have a job for you that you might be interested in.”

  “We’re always listening, as long as you have the coin,” I smirk. Becca nudges me slightly. "What he means is we'd be happy to serve you again," Becca says. "What do you have in mind?"

  Rissa turns the glowing cube in her hands, her mind busy in thought. “I have a shipment of these,” she explains. “A very large one. I need them to be safely transported across the mesa planet, Muran. I’m not one to trust many smugglers, but the two of you have proven to be efficient as well as courageous.”

  "That's quite the compliment," I say, leaning back in my chair. We've never had a client call us courageous before. "I think it's safe to say we've been buttered up—"

  “What’s the long version?” Becca asks. She’s always careful before taking a job. She doesn’t like surprises.

  Ri
ssa crinkles her nose at us. She's the sweetest looking old lady I've ever seen. Either that or all of her kind just looks like friendly raisins. "I have a transport team at the ready. You'll take a ship to the planet, where a railway is waiting for you. Your job is to protect this train, along with its cargo, until it safely reaches the destination, a mining city on the edge of the planet."

  "Sounds easy enough," I say, but Becca isn't quite sold just yet. "Falax," she says. "Perhaps we can discuss this before we come to an agreement." She's using her serious voice, meaning she's having second thoughts.

  Rissa leaves her seat, her guide following closely behind her. She wanders over to Becca and looks at us with full sincerity. "I also offered you this job to possibly help you provide for your new baby," she says with a shrug. Becca and I exchange a nervous glance. It's only been a day since we—ahem—did the deed with my seed. How would Rissa know about this?

  “I’m sorry,” Becca says with rightful confusion. “I’m not sure what you’re talking about.”

  “Well, my dear,” Rissa says, her eyes glowing with delight, “I’m talking about the baby inside of you right now.”

  There's another Earth phrase Becca told me about. It's called, "Shit-hitting-the-fan." It's something you say when something completely unexpected and absolutely insane happens to you, and you're not sure how to quite deal with it. This is one of those times.

  "Are you serious?!" Becca nearly shouts, startling poor Rissa. "I'm not pregnant. I mean, we were trying...but that was yesterday! It can't be…" It takes a while for me to coax her down to a normal speech volume. Rissa straightens up, pulling her small hand out from her contrastingly large sleeve. "May I?" She asks. Becca nods, and Rissa reaches to touch Becca's belly.

  It starts to glow. Through Becca's clothing, through her skin, we can see a small bud of life, no bigger than my pinky finger, gently floating around. Becca shrinks back in fright. "Oh my gods…OH MY GODS!" She cries out in realization. As I said, she's not good with surprises. She turns to me with an odd mixture of fright and excitement. "Falax! We're…"

  “We’re pregnant,” I say, feeling a heavy weight sinking into my stomach. I can’t believe it. I mentally try to do the math. My kind bears children almost at the same pace as a human would. So that would mean it’s at least been--

  "About a couple months at that," Rissa clarifies. Becca's mouth falls open in shock. "A couple of months?!" She mouths. Where my fear of parenting once settled there's now another strange feeling, a rush of excitement. Almost like holding handfuls of gold between my fingers. But it's so much better than that. I lean over, holding Becca in my arms and for a moment we share this blissful event.

  Then again…we still have a job to complete. What does this mean for us now? “Miss Rissa, I think we should—“

  "We'll take the job," Becca finishes before I can even get the last words out. I pull away from her to make sure she's serious. "Are you sure?" I ask. "I mean, this kind of changes things for us."

  “Then shouldn’t we pull off one last job?” She asks. “One more before we become parents?”

  I'm caught between two islands of thought. One says be responsible, and the other says to be a smuggler. Becca and I usually tend to go with smuggler.

  "Okay," I say, still feeling an odd lump flipping in my guts. Maybe it's just all the excitement. Before we finish the formalities, a delighted Rissa waves her hand. "Excellent," she says. "We must celebrate a joyous occasion. To my job, and your new family!" Her guide brings two bottles to the table. Rissa pours a glass of fine liquor for herself and for me. She places a careful eye on Becca as she uncaps the other bottle, spilling a dark red syrup, almost like blood, into the glass.

  "None for you, my dear," she says wagging an ancient finger. "You'll have this special herbal supplement from my home planet. It will keep the baby safe during your mission, and keep morning sickness at bay."

  We toast. To one last job, and to the baby, the tiny pinky floating in my wife's stomach. I can only imagine how either of these journies is going to go. Becca winces as she downs her drink, and gives a worried glance to Rissa. Rissa only warmly smiles at her. "You'll get used to it," she says calmly. "Now, let's get started, shall we? I'm sure this crew has been anxious to meet you. After all, it's been several years since you've all been together again…"

  CHAPTER THREE: GANG’S ALL HERE

  BECCA

  I can hardly keep up with Rissa's guide as she leads us to the docking bay. My head is spinning with thousands of thoughts. I'm pregnant. Even saying it in my mind sounds so foreign, and I can barely concentrate on our mission at hand. Oh my gods…we're going on a mission! More than likely a dangerous one. Have I made a huge mistake agreeing to this? I clutch nervously onto Falax's hand, and he gives a slight squeeze to comfort me. I use my other hand to chug from another bottle of the drink Rissa gave me. It tastes horrifically acidic, like a thick margarita made with pure lemon juice.

  We reach the docking area, where a small cargo ship waits. Leaning up against it are four aliens. Two reptilian-looking fellows, with yellow slitted eyes and similar in age and stature, play a punching game with each other. One is a woman, with large cat-like ears, deep green patches of fur, and a body-builder structure, watching the ships take off. The last one, and tallest of the group is a grey-skinned bald-headed man with large protruding fangs from his bottom lip, almost like Falax's. He's thin, but sturdy, and has a face that only a seasoned smuggler would have.

  “You’ve got to be shitting me,” Falax says with a laugh as he shakes his head. “They’ve got us teamed up with you losers?”

  Once they see us, all of their eyes light up. The two reptilians sprint from the ship, rushing towards us with open arms. I'm about to accept them, but Falax drops my hand, leaving a cold imprint on my palm as he runs toward the two. I watch as they collide into a heap of hugs and hi-fives. The woman and the tall man walk over, not as energetic, but still pleased to see Falax. "Didn't I leave your ass on the lava planet, Krellus?" The tall man says as he proudly clutches Falax's shoulder.

  "That can't be him," the woman says. "He was only a shrimp back then."

  I feel like a strange bystander watching this reunion, but nothing beats the excited smile on Falax's face. He exchanges hello's, then turns to address me. "I've uh, been a little busy since I last saw you guys," he says pulling me closer to the group to introduce me. "These are my old crew buddies," Falax says. "From way back in the day when I first started out. The two insect-eaters here are brothers, Nemi and Meni, not confusing at all."

  Everyone laughs at his sarcasm. Falax loves having an audience. The only difference between Nemi and Meni is how they wear their dreadlocked hair. Nemi’s in a top knot, Meni’s braided over his shoulder. They each hold out a scaly hand for me to shake. The cat-like woman steps forward, her ears twitching back and forth. “This is Reeta,” Falax says. Reeta winks at me, her demeanor slightly intimidating.

  “And this bag of bones is Gallik,” Falax adds, patting the shoulder of the tall man. “You’ve caught yourself a lovely gem, Falax,” Gallik says, his voice hoarse as he grabs my hand to kiss it. I’m fifty percent flattered, fifty percent weirded out by the gesture. “I’ve taught your husband everything he knows,” he tells me. From this close, I can see a scar that stretches from the top of his forehead and weaves down to his bottom lip.

  “Except for how to be a dad,” Reeta chides. “You two have a wild ride ahead of you with a baby on the way.”

  “Wait,” I say. “How did you guys know—“

  “Word travels fast around here,” Nemi says, his slitted eyes narrowing at Reeta. Reeta gives an awkward shrug, and for a moment I feel a strange waver in my gut.

  “Well, enough chitter-chatter,” Gallik says. “We got a ship to fly and plenty of time to get to know each other.” He turns and gives a knowing nod at me. “Falax, would you care to pilot the cargo ship? For old time’s sake?”

  Falax hurries a few steps forward but stops as he realize
s something. Oh, right, it's me. "Hey, do you mind if I sit with Gallik up front?" He asks me quietly. "It's been a long time since I've seen him." At first, I'm not sure what to say, but I'm not going to be an asshole when my husband is so excited to see his old friends. "Go for it," I tell him, kissing him on the cheek. Falax lights up as if he were a kid again. He takes my hand and rushes me to the ship.

  If I'm being honest here, I think lookout is probably the most stupid and most made up job on any smuggling mission. Because she is pregnant, guess who gets to have this highly honorable title? You guessed it. This lady. I prop my feet up on the main control panel and look out of the massive window at the dark valley below. Nestled in the rocks is a large factory-like warehouse that the rest of the team, including Falax, have been spending hours in.

  Rissa mentioned she had a shipment for us to pick up, which is strange since clients usually have their product already on hand for us to deliver. I’m wondering if this cargo is top-secret, judging by the crowds of guards huddling around the entryways. I feel a twinge of anger that I can’t go with the rest of the team, but after our last scrape to get Rissa’s mysterious glowing cube, I can’t take any big chances.

  My stomach starts to feel strange, almost pulsing. and I place a hand on it and try to breathe it away. As it settles a bit, I realize I'm not completely sure if this is what pregnancy is supposed to feel like. I can't be feeling the baby move already, can I? I stoop down to make up another bottle of Rissa's concoction and begrudgingly take a swig of it to ease the sensation.

  Suddenly, my attention falls on the flashing lights down in the valley. Blasts from lasers fly every which way, and I’m able to see the team hurtling from the side of the warehouse with a hovering minecart of crates. Falax is riding on top of it, turning to blast at the security guards.

  The speakers in the cockpit crackle to life. “Hey babe, we need the ramp!” Falax shouts. “On it,” I say, leaning just a few inches over to press a button. The loading ramp whirs as it lowers down, and the ship echoes with sounds of blasters being fired. Nemi and Meni are the first to climb aboard, their faces covered with sweat and oil. “Got the goods!” They say in perfect unison as they scramble to their seats and buckle up.