by Terri Lane
Mindlessly, she rutted back against Galen’s cock as Arryn worked a second finger into her, then a third. She was dripping with excitement now, the careful ministrations of Arryn’s tongue preparing her for what was coming.
Polina tossed her head as Arryn’s mouth continued to explore her, open her up. Galen caught her mouth with his, kissing her deeply with his probing tongue and sharp teeth as Arryn thrust into her with three of his long, clever fingers.
Finally, when Polina couldn’t imagine taking much more, Galen slowly lowered her to the floor, arranging her carefully on her hands and knees.
“Is this okay, Polina?” Galen checked, peering into her eyes.
She smiled up at him. “Yes,” Polina said, her voice hazy with need. “I want this. I want you.”
Galen knelt in front of her, cock in one hand while the other stroked her cheek. Polina licked her lips in anticipation, desperate to be filled. She whimpered and Galen finally gave her what she wanted, guiding his throbbing cock to her waiting lips.
His eyes flicked upward and Polina, turning her head ever so slightly, could make out Arryn kneeling behind her. There was pressure between her legs as he lined the head of his cock up to her damp entrance.
“Please,” Polina whispered. “Please, I need you. I need both of you.”
“And you’ll have both of us, love,” Galen murmured, stroking her hair as he held himself in front of her waiting mouth. “Arryn? Ready?”
“Ready,” Arryn said, and slid inside of her.
Polina gasped at the size of him pushing into her, but her gasp was stifled by Galen, who slid himself inside her mouth at the exact moment Arryn entered her from behind. Polina braced herself as her two lovers filled her, taking the pleasure that she was so willing to give.
She whimpered and gasped, trying to cry out in pleasure but too full to make any audible sound. Galen and Arryn found a rhythm as they worked her together, pushing her to heights of pleasure she’d never imagined. Polina wanted to tell that not to stop, to never stop, but she couldn’t form words. Instead, she pushed her hips back, impaling herself on Arryn’s thick shaft, urging him forward to speed and intensity beyond her wildest imagination.
Each thrust sparked something deep inside her, until Polina was overcome with passion. She came then, an explosion of pleasure from deep within her core, crying out at her release as best she could around Galen, who had reached his own zenith of pleasure and was holding himself firmly in her mouth as the waves of his orgasm swept over him.
Arryn had stilled behind her, his cock fully seated inside. He was shaking, trembling silently as he spent.
Polina stayed still as long as she could, holding herself on her hands and knees as she and her lovers reached their triple climaxes. Finally, when she could take it no longer, Polina collapsed onto the mattresses, Arryn and Galen tumbling after her.
They slept there, a tangled mass of limbs until the flare had long since burned out and the bunker was plunged into darkness.
Epilogue
“So, what exactly is the plan?” Polina asked as she strapped herself into the taxi shuttle’s jump seat.
“The plan is—” Galen began.
“We go back to Dardassyius,” Arryn finished. “We get ourselves a bigger, faster ship—”
“—and then we travel the galaxy showing everyone we meet these vids,” Galen said. “Hopefully, we meet enough folks who believe our story and we can wake some people up about the true nature of the IA.”
“And if they find us?” Polina asked.
Galen shrugged. “We run.”
“If they threaten us?”
Arryn looked at her, blue eyes steely and his markings arranged in sharp arrowheads along his cheekbones. “We fight.”
Polina nodded. “Sounds like a plan.”
In the cockpit, Galen flipped a series of switches and the shuttle lurched to life. Polina smiled as the little vessel took off, leaving their sanctuary moon behind them.
Somewhere, in the galaxy were people who would believe their story. People who would demand justice for the suffering of the Dardassyian colonists. They just needed to spread the word. It wouldn’t be easy and it might be dangerous. But Polina knew that, as long as all three of them were in this together, they had a fighting chance.
THE END
= Bonus Book 20 of 20 =
Her SEAL, Her Savior
Even when she was wearing six-inch heels, Alasia Jackson didn’t come close to matching the height of the hulking blond man currently standing between her and the door.
“I need to get to sound check,” she growled, narrowing her dark brown eyes and glaring up at him.
Zach didn’t respond, so she poked him in the center of his broad chest with one bright pink, manicured fingernail. This barely had an effect, either. He just cocked one light eyebrow and coolly informed her, “You can get to sound check, ma’am, as soon as security goes over that wiring.”
Alasia sighed and flounced across her spacious dressing room to the leather sofa, finally backing down from the fight. She flopped down onto the thick cushions and dug through the pockets of her skintight jeans for her phone. Flipping it to front view, she aimed the camera at herself for a quick selfie, making sure to catch Zach in frame.
Trying to get to sound check for all my fans in ABQ! Hope my bodyguard lets me out soon so I can rock ya’lls world! She captioned the photo and then posted it to her Instagram. Seconds later, likes and comments began pinging in.
“My fans demand that you let me outta here, Zach,” she said. “A bunch of them got in for sound check and I cannot disappoint my fans.”
“Ma’am, it will just be a few more minutes. I’m sure this delay won’t affect your show tonight at all,” he drawled in his thick Southern accent.
Alasia didn’t know what annoyed her more: Zach’s accent or his constant use of the word “ma’am.” She thought about it for a moment, then concluded that the most annoying thing about Zach was his mere existence. He’d only been appointed to her for less than twenty-four hours, but she was already fed up with the retired Navy SEAL’s oppressive presence.
Her normal security team, Laurence and Cajardo, always let her have her own way, and that’s the way Alasia liked it. She and her boys grew up in LA together, and she’d always been the queen bee. Now, however, Laurence and Cajardo were back in Houston in a hospital wing, recovering from a nasty bout of food poisoning.
Or at least that’s what the organizers of the Pop/Rock Explosion! Parade of Stars tour had told her.
“It’s just food poisoning, Lay-Lay,” Marty had said, but his eyes kept shifting away from hers. As if that wasn’t suspicious enough, Marty had immediately called in a favor from an old friend and snagged her a fearsome new bodyguard, Zachary Severtson, retired Navy SEAL, Southern gentleman and official pain-in-her-ass.
When Alasia had questioned Zach about the “food poisoning” incident, he’d remained stone-faced and only replied that it was classified information.
Considering the alleged “food poisoning” had happened when Laurence and Cajardo had devoured a box of gourmet truffles that had been sent to Alasia, she thought she deserved to know the truth, not get nailed with this “classified information” nonsense. Alasia may have majored in vocal music and not science or criminal justice, but she knew perfectly well that people didn’t get food poisoning from a box of candy.
The whole thing was shady beyond belief.
“Ma’am, we just got word that the stage has been swept and everything is clear,” Zach informed her and finally stepped away from the door. “You’re free to head to sound check.”
Alasia pushed passed him without comment and made her way to the stage. Excited stagehands and PAs whispered as she approached and she took a few moments here and there to stop and snap some selfies with the ones who were brave enough to ask.
She may have only been the runner up on the last season of Pop/Rock Explosion! but everyone knew that she’d deserved to win,
and her massive, vocal fan base was loud in their affection for their favorite singer.
A mousy little PA stopped her as she passed the craft services table. “Excuse me? Miss Jackson?” the girl stuttered, her eyes wide and star-struck behind her thick black glasses. “I was wondering if we could take a quick photo?”
Alasia laughed. “I’d be happy to, hon, but on one condition: you call me ‘Lay-Lay,’ okay?”
“Okay!” the girl grinned and framed them both in the lens of her phone’s camera.
Alasia shot the camera a winning smile and took a moment to admire her image on screen. Back when she was playing in small clubs around LA, she’d never bothered to get herself made-up and ready for sound checks, but now that she was suddenly an international pop sensation, she was always on and needed to look her best.
From the screen of the girl’s phone, Alasia’s image stared back at her. Smooth mocha skin, make-up flawless and perfect. She was wearing braids for the tour and her current set had fuchsia streaks woven through them. The angle of the girl’s photo caught a bit of Alasia’s deep cleavage, pushed together by a bold black bustier.
She used to be a jeans and sneakers kind of girl, back when she was just messing around on the scene in LA, but as her popularity grew from week to week on Pop/Rock Explosion!, the producers had started encouraging her to sex up her image. The sweet little singer from East LA had been replace by a flirty siren who paraded around on teetering high heels and left bold red lipstick stains on fans when she rewarded their devotion with pecks on their cheeks.
Alasia was constantly impressed every time she got a glimpse of her new pop star self, but sometimes she had a lot of trouble recognizing the face in the mirror.
A broad male torso suddenly filled the background of the girl’s photo and Alasia saw her image frown. She didn’t even need to turn around to know who it was. The Navy SEAL logo on the t-shirt that stretched tightly across the muscular chest that loomed behind her was enough of a clue.
“Ma’am,” Zach said. “If you could just walk a little slower, I’d be grateful. I do need to you keep you in sight at all times.”
A bit of shame washed over Alasia. Zach walked with a pronounced limp. Although no one mentioned it, it was obvious that the former SEAL’s retirement was not voluntary.
“Sorry,” Alasia said over her shoulder, still too irritated with Zach to look at him. “I’m used to making these short little legs work overtime.”
Alasia was tiny, barely five foot three, and she took special care to keep her curvy form in great shape. “Don’t you go getting too skinny, girl,” her boyfriend, Devan, had warned her multiple times as her ratings on the show had grown and her star had risen. “I like my baby with a bit of booty.”
Well, there was no danger of that. Alasia loved her generous curves and kept herself happy and well fed. There was no way that she’d let herself turn into a nervous, skinny little twig like Genna Reyes, a contestant who was voted off Pop/Rock Explosion! early in the season, but was on tour with them as a back-up singer. Genna never said or did anything that was even the least bit rude, but Alasia had a hard time trusting her. Nobody was that sticky sweet without a motive.
“Ma’am? Shall we?” Zach asked, and Alasia found it hilarious that her bodyguard was now the one urging her to get to sound check. How quickly and conveniently he forgot that he’d been the one holding her back just minutes before. Typical white boy, Alasia thought, always pretending that he’s the one who came up with all the good ideas.
The PA seemed satisfied with her photo op and was happily trying filters on the selfie, so Alasia gave her one last hug and set off down the hall towards the arena.
The second she stepped on stage, the small group of early-bird fans broke into excited cheers. Zach stood in the shadow behind her, arms crossed and expression unreadable.
Alasia waved at the group of devoted on-lookers, then picked up the mic and launched into a series of vocal runs. The crowd went wild. She was a star.
***
When Alasia returned to her dressing room, there was a text waiting from her boyfriend, Devan. Well, actually, there were over a dozen texts from Devan, all variations of Who the hell is that huge guy behind you in that picture? Why do you got a new bodyguard?!
Alasia sighed, pulled a Diet Coke out of the mini-fridge and tapped out a quick reply to her boyfriend. Devan had been so sensitive since she’d started the tour. No, that wasn’t right. He’d been touchy and sensitive ever since she’d been accepted as a contestant on Pop/Rock Explosion! and he hadn’t. She’d tried to explain that shows like these rarely featured rappers, but he wouldn’t listen. He’d been begrudgingly supportive whenever they were seen in public together, but that was about it.
At the moment, Devan was back in LA, in the studio recording a single with some buddies. Alasia desperately hoped it would work out. She was tired of his jealousy.
“Everything all right, ma’am?” Zach asked from the doorway. She’d rudely rushed down the hall, forgetting her bodyguard’s slow walk, but if he was upset, he didn’t let it show.
She had to hand that to him, Zach was definitely in control of his emotions, unlike her boyfriend. Or Demetrius Gallow, the actual winner of last season’s Pop/Rock Explosion! Demetrius was prone to temper tantrums and had a very hard time keeping his resentment of Alasia’s success to a low simmer.
Social media had just about imploded when Demetrius was declared the winner. Everyone had thought that Alasia, with her incredible vocal range and sultry belt, was a shoo-in, but the judges were somehow swayed by Demetrius rock star swagger and smoky rasp. What the rock singer lacked in actual vocal technique, he made up in sex appeal.
“Was that guy out there giving you trouble, ma’am?” Zach asked, stepping inside the dressing room and locking the door.
Alasia would like to have been impressed by the astute observation, but it wasn’t like Demetrius was even making an effort to hide his open disdain and resentment toward Alasia. He’d stood just off-stage during sound check, glowering as she’d tested out her range for the new mics at the venue.
As he pushed past her for his own check, he’d snidely whispered in her ear. “Just because your people tweet about you, it doesn’t make you a star. I still won the show.” He’d then turned and waved to the crowd, which had begun to disperse after Alasia left the stage, and was only greeted with a spattering of applause.
Good. He’d deserved it.
Zach was still waiting for a reply, however, his handsome face cut with concern.
Alasia shook her head. “He always does, don’t worry about him. Just giving me shit about my fan base. Like having a bunch of fans doesn’t mean anything if they’re all black.”
Zach smiled and Alasia almost fainted. It was the first time she’d seen the SEAL crack a smile in days. “Well, if I may say so, ma’am, you’ve got all kinds of fans. I watched you every week.”
“Really?” Alasia was shocked. “You don’t seem like the type to watch a pop music show. I’d have expected you to watch, I don’t know, Man vs. Wilderness or something.”
“I gotta admit, I watch that, too, ma’am. But I never missed an episode of Pop/Rock Explosion! when you were on. Even made myself a Twitter account so I could tweet my support for you during that one week with the social media challenge.”
Alasia was impressed. She’d overwhelmingly won the social media challenge—her fans practically blew up Twitter, Instagram and Snapchat with her hashtag #Alasia4Ever—but it was touching that Zach lent his support.
“What’s your twitter, sweetie?” She asked, pulling out her phone. “I’m gonna follow you.”
He gave her his handle--@ZachSevert, not particularly creative—and Alasia quickly found his profile. He’d only tweeted once, the tweet in support of her. It was kind of sweet.
Alasia pressed the ‘follow’ button and Zach’s follower count went from zero to one. Oh, he was going to have so many more followers by the time she was finished with him
. She reposted his sole tweet and added Looks like my new BG was already a fan! <3
Zach was frowning at her. “No disrespect, ma’am, but what did you just get up to?”
She was saved from having to answer by a rap at the door. Zach cracked it open and, after deciding that the visitor was no threat, admitted Genna Reyes, a tiny little Latina girl who could only be described as Alasia’s “best frenemy.”
“Oh my god, Lay-Lay!” Genna gushed. “You sounded so good at sound check today!”
“Thanks, girl,” Alasia replied, hoping her smile was genuine. Genna had a habit of coming on way too strong and that bothered her. “Wore me out, though. I want to try to get a little rest before the show tonight.”
Genna didn’t get the hint. Instead, she helped herself to a soda from the fridge and joined Alasia on the leather sofa. “Ugh, can you believe we’re performing in Albuquerque? And then we have to go to freaking Kansas City. This itinerary is so lame,” Genna complained.
“Ah, it’s not so bad,” Alasia replied, which was a complete lie. The tour wound its way through the middle of the United States, through what Demetrius, a native New Yorker, sneeringly referred to as “flyover country.” They were playing small venues—a minor league baseball stadium here, a concert hall named after a bank there—and the tour ended in Fresno, a city three hours up and in from Los Angeles. Not exactly a glamorous final stop.
Ever since she was a little girl, dancing around her bedroom and belting into her hairbrush like it was a microphone, Alasia had dreamed of playing Madison Square Garden in New York City. It looked like she’d have to settle for Fresno.
At least it was close enough to LA for Devan to come see the show, if he could set aside his bruised ego long enough to support his damn girlfriend.