Can this get any better?
As a matter of fact, it can because on Christmas morning, I head downstairs to see that a tree has been put up with lights and ornaments, and there are far more than four stockings hanging above the roaring fireplace.
Shocked, I turn around, ready to head back to our room to demand answers from Nestrol, but he’s already standing there.
And he’s not alone.
Johanna’s holding Strol, and Lisa’s cradling Sarah. Their husbands Dariox and Brax are here, too, and also Amber, Damonik, Rachel, and Chrix, and their babies too.
“What in the world?” I ask, gaping at them.
Nestrol holds out his arms. “You said Christmas is family. You wanted to have Christmas on Earth. I had to bring the family to Earth too.”
I’m so happy I burst into tears. My hormones are still all over the place, have been for months, and Nestrol learned a long time ago to just go with it. He crosses over and rubs my back, and even though this Christmas Day has only just started, it’s already the best one ever.
Chapter Five
Nestrol
It’s been a wonderful time here with everyone. Nadia gave me a belt buckle that used to be her dad’s. She hasn’t told me a lot about him, but I knew he died, and the belt buckle means the world to me.
Having everyone here with us and having Captain Enos watching over things on Kuria isn’t my only present to Nadia. I present her with a ring made from the stone on Kuria.
“It’s beautiful,” she says with a gasp.
“Not as beautiful as you are.”
There’s a couple of snickers around us, but I ignore them and kiss my wife.
Johanna crosses over to us and hands a box to Nadia. Inside is a book.
Nadia flips through it. “It’s blank.”
“Write your own romance.” Johanna winks.
A baby starts to wail.
Johanna holds up a hand. “You two, go on ahead and get some rest. You both look like you can use it.”
“Are you—” Nadia starts, but I yank on her hand.
“She’s sure,” I insist, and I proceed to lead Nadia to our bedroom before she can argue.
Behind us, I kick the door shut.
Nadia grins at me. “I’ll try my best not to fall asleep this time.”
“Don’t worry,” I growl. “I won’t let you.”
Despite my words, I’m as tender as I’ve ever been, and I ease her onto the bed before stripping her clothes. This time, she removes her bra. Normally, I’ll tweak and play with her nipples, twisting them at times, but now, I’m gentle with them, licking and kissing.
Nadia is wetter down there than she had been the other day, and she sucks in a deep breath as I rub my thumb against her clit. Her eyes close, and she arches her back, and then she jerks.
“Nestrol!” she cries.
I grin. “Orgasm number one?”
She nods.
“There will be more,” I promise.
Nadia grabs my face and plants a passionate kiss on me before pushing me back. She climbs off the bed and gets onto her knees, licking my long shaft and causing precum to drip from my cock. My wife licks me clean before taking me inside her mouth. If there’s one thing my wife’s good at, it’s giving head, but she’s amazing at so many other things. Ovian. This woman and what she does to me. It’s ovian insane.
My balls tighten, and I grip her hair, urging her to go faster, but she presses back and releases my cock right when I was starting to think it might be for the best for me to come in her mouth instead of her pussy.
“Slow,” she reminds me as she lies back on the bed.
I stand over her, watching her closely for any sign of discomfort. When I put my tip against her opening, she flinches in anticipation.
“Are you ready?” I ask, fighting back a groan because I am so very ready.
She nods, and I ease in slowly, ever so slowly. Her eyes tighten a bit, and I stop, but she nods, and I keep going until I’m inside her completely.
“Why aren’t you moving?” she asks.
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I explain.
She rocks her hips back and forth, and we start a slow dance of gentle thrusts. It’s torturous, the build-up immense, and when we find release, it’s at the very same moment.
Nadia shivers as she reaches up to kiss me. “I want rough sex soon,” she says.
“As soon as you’re able to handle it.”
“Oh, I’ll be able to handle it sooner than you think.” She laughs as she pats my cheek.
She shifts over to lie down with her head on her pillow, and I do the same. For a moment, we just rest there, enjoying the aftermath of our lovemaking.
Then, I prop my hand up to ogle her, my sexy, beautiful wife. I grin as I say, “I have another present for you.”
“Nestrol, you’ve already given me so much,” she protests.
“No,” I correct sternly. “You have given me so much, more than I could have ever dreamed of.”
From the small table beside the bed, I grab a tiny box. I hand it to Nadia and nod for her to open it. She complies, and she gasps.
“Open it,” I order.
She does as instructed, and tears fill her eyes.
“Oh, Nestrol, it’s beautiful!”
Her eyes shine as she stares at the pictures of her twins on one side of the golden heart pendant, a picture of me on the other.
“Photos,” she murmurs. “How did you get pictures?”
I just smirk. “Can’t I have a surprise or two up my sleeve?”
“You can have more than just a surprise up your sleeve.” She winks and snuggles against me.
“I can have my cock inside you?”
She bursts out laughing. “Maybe.” My wife reaches down for my cock, stroking it but only a few pumps when she furrows her brow. She juts her chin toward the table. “What’s that?”
Another box rests there.
“You can see,” I tell her.
She grabs the box and opens it. Inside is a medallion in the shape of Kuria. It’s a pendant too, and inside is a picture of my wife’s smiling face, the look more than a little coy, and on the other side, a picture that no one else should see, featuring her again.
“You do love to ogle me,” she says with a laugh.
“Can you blame me?”
“I suppose there are worse things than being ogled by an alien overlord,” she teases.
“How about that alien overlord do a lot more than just ogling?” I ask, and we start round two of lovemaking. At this rate, it won’t take much longer for Nadia to become pregnant again, and that is fine by me.
The End
Enjoyed this story? Be sure to leave a review! You can check out book one in the Novans series: Chosen by the Alien Commander. Want to read how Nestrol and Nadia fell in love? Their book is Ordered by the Alien Overlord!
About the Author
Ashlyn Hawkes has always been fascinated by the stars, so it’s no wonder that when she started to write romances, she gravitated to big, strong, muscular heroes… with blue skin. Aliens. They need love to, right? And she plans to play matchmaker with as many aliens as possible. Who wouldn’t want to be chosen and claimed by a handsome brute of an alien?
Email Ashlyn at [email protected]. She loves to hear from her readers! Happy reading!
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The Novans
Chosen by the Alien Commander
Selected by the Alien Scientist
Bought by the Alien Breeder
Picked by the Alien Pilot
Ordered by the Alien Overlord
Captured by the Alien Captain
Overseen by the Alien Officer
Dominated by the Alien Driver
Solicited by the Alien Scout
Bar
tered by the Alien Builder
Grabbed by the Alien Guard
Smitten by the Alien Soldier - available for preorder
Wooed by the Alien Warrior - available for preorder
Honored by the Alien Hunter - available for preorder
Prized by the Alien Pirate - available for preorder
The Kurians
Ravished by the Alien Raider
Taken by the Alien Traveler
Detained by the Alien Discoverer
Enchanted by the Alien Explorer
Dazzled by the Alien Daredevil - available for preorder
Mesmerized by the Alien Mercenary - available for preorder
Wanted by the Alien Wanderer - available for preorder
Visited by the Alien Voyager - available for preorder
Needed by the Alien Nomad - available for preorder
Hypnotized by the Alien Hero - available for preorder
Beating His Mallet
Jade Waltz
Untitled
About Beating His Mallet
We came for one reason: to breed
After studying the mating practices of this planet’s savage natives, I have found a pattern. These communities gather for many turns to witness a traditional mock battle and celebrate their sacred mating dance.
After much searching, I have found the perfect female to abduct, one of a tribe of savages who worship a god similar to my kind.
Who knew finding a new species to mate would be this easy?
Mikayla
Bright floodlights beamed down from the stadium’s rim, blinding those brave—or dumb—enough to glance up. Their rays only added to the heat from my uniform, baking me from within as sweat dripped down my body.
The crowd’s constant rumble assaulted my ears as the pairs of eyes from the packed house watched as we stood at attention, waiting for our chance to shine.
Saturday college football was the only thing that mattered during the fall semester, and for some, the whole year itself. Lucky for us, alumni and fans from across the world had returned on this one special day—Homecoming. All the hard work and sacrifices we made for this week’s worth of activities and events had led to this one moment, our one chance to shine—halftime.
“Space Stadium! Please welcome back to the field, the flyest backbend in the land, the spirit and sound of IOU, it’s the Flying Martian Marching Band!”
The crowd went wild, decked out in our school colors—emerald, sapphire, and gold—making the stands appear alive. Their deafening roars only made it harder to hear my lead drum major’s tweets. If it wasn’t for the years of conditioning and experience from playing on the line, I would’ve missed my whistle chirps to start the four-beat “and up” command.
Gock!
Gock!
“And!”
“Up!”
We came alive.
Moving as one as we formed our shapes on the field, united as one.
We were one band, one sound.
My hands played my part, instinctively going through the song’s notes as I marched to each set with flawless accuracy that was required of me and my position as the center snare.
All the sexism I had faced over the years washed away with each step I took. This spot was mine. I earned it after endless lessons, practices, and fighting against the injustices. I had battled my way to this position to be the queen of the line, and no one had dethroned me. And they wouldn’t until I graduate. I refused to allow it!
Every note I beat on my snare carried the tempo my line needed to drive the band forward—refusing to drag behind—to stay on course. Keeping my eyes on the nearest drum major’s hands, I tracked their conducting as I made sure my tempo matched theirs.
One. Two. Three. Four.
The thumping from the basses on my line felt like my own heartbeat as the clashes from the cymbals rang through the air, almost blocking out the music blaring from the horn section.
Halting in position in the song’s last set, I turned to face our marching band director, watching for any changes in the tempo. She jerked her face toward the sky. Refusing to let curiosity ruin my conditioning, I followed her pace as her hands slowed down her conducting to a halt. Confusion passed through me like a wrong note during an accompanying solo, striking suddenly and unexpectedly.
This wasn’t right.
The band didn’t stop in the middle of a performance. The show must always go on. Mrs. and Mr. Joe Public would never know any mistakes made on the field—unless it was YouTube-worthy.
Holding my mallets in the ready position, I watched for my director to continue, only for her to lower her hands. With my lack of playing, my line shortly followed my lead. Slowly, the band stopped their performance, unsure if we were supposed to continue or not. Schooling my face to remain stoic, a sense of unease descended upon me like the final note of a symphony.
The unified movement behind my director only added to my alarm. The whole stadium’s crowd stood as one and pointed to the sky. Some brought out their phones to record whatever was happening, while others rushed for the exits, scrambling around those who had stopped to stare. The crowd’s rumble turned from stunned silence to frantic screams.
Just as I dared to break attention and glance toward the sky, a bright light beamed down, instantly blinding me.
Risolu
We had spent the last thirty-three turns studying the dominant species of this water world, watching in horror at how they were damaging their home planet with their primitive ways. Evidence of their inferior technology within the gravitational pull surrounding their planet showed they were just learning the basics of space travel. From what we had gathered, it seemed the humans were too busy fighting among themselves to worry about the more essential things like unifying themselves, saving their environment, and trying to explore space outside their star system. They couldn’t even settle on the same language!
How they survived thus far never ceased to amaze me. Their lack of focus made it easy for us to survey their planet undetected, cloaked from their technology and eyesight.
Never in my life had I come across a species with so many forms and dialects on the same home planet, especially with the level of technology they had. I was surprised to discover their lack of a universal communicator, which only added to my frustrations about how difficult our initial meeting would be.
After many debates, we concluded this was their mating season.
One of their dominant territories had five turns of festivities before gathering in an arena to battle nearby communities in primitive war games. Their soldiers were allowed to rest between two rounds for their main event—the mating dance.
Available members of the community dressed up in similar outfits and wielded their best noisemakers to attract someone to take them home after the last round of war games. We didn’t know if the noises they made were toward their local deities for fertility or a great harvest. We had observed similar things in other primitive species we’d visited. Still, none of them were far advanced enough in their technology for us to be able to approach, regardless of the temptation.
It was a fine line to fly.
We were lucky to have discovered, even though the humans weren’t as technologically advanced as we hoped, their media proved their interest in unknown lifeforms from beyond. Invasions, enslavement, exploring space, and even having relations with species outside their own were common themes in their topics. If they were this open that life outside their planet existed, it made it that much easier for us to establish communications with them.
I just hoped they were compatible with us.
While other species were having fertility problems, either a diminishing number of females being born or more extended periods between heat seasons, we weren’t. I was glad we were trying to be proactive, attempting to add new genes to our species pool in hopes to prevent any unforeseen problems in the future. Some saw looking for new mates as a game and a new challenge to conquest.
“Is everything prepared?” Fierme asked, stepping beside me as we watched our chosen test subjects play the first round of their war games.
Pulling my attention away from the spectacle below, I met his worried icy blue gaze and chuckled. “What else is there to do?”
He glanced to the view window. “How are you sure these are the right ones?”
Crossing my arms, I peered at the emerald and sapphire performers, following their intricate mating dance. Something along the edge of their graphed field caught my eye. It was a primitive prototype spacecraft with a glass dome, similar in appearance to ours, but only capable of holding the pilot. It was driven by a bright green species we had never come across with large black eyes on their gigantic hairless heads.
“If that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is,” I said, nodding toward the personal ship that mirrored our own. “It is clear they are the most open to space travel of all the areas we have studied.”
“How are you so sure?” The tone of his voice told me exactly how much he doubted me and this process. Punching his arm, I shot him a smirk.
“When have I been wrong?”
“There was that—”
“That doesn’t count, and you know it.” I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms at his ridiculousness. “Anyway, it’s obvious this tribe is the most interested in meeting life outside their own star system. We haven’t come across any other that worships a deity this close to resembling us.”
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