by Renee Rose
“Veck, Riya. Veck, veck,” he growls. “I’m not going to last more than a minute in your perfect little pussy.”
That does it for me. My pussy clenches and I catapult over the edge into a release even more satisfying than the last two. My internal walls squeeze and spasm around Tarren’s hard length and he roars, yanking me over his cock, ramming so deep it hurts. His hot essence fills me as I fall against his chest, panting for breath, digging my fingernails into his shoulders.
The rest is a blur. Tarren’s holding me tight. I’m lifted and rearranged horizontally, my body snuggled up against his. Another body tucks in behind me. I’m drifting on bliss, comfortable and safe between my warriors.
Just before I fall asleep, it occurs to me that Jax hasn’t had his turn. “Jax?” I murmur, opening my heavy lids.
“I’m here, lovely.”
Jax. is the one I most have to watch out for. The one who reads me so well. He’s not either of the males I’m sandwiched between, which worries me. I attempt to sit up.
“Is it your turn?” I mumble sleepily.
He chuckles and leans over me, kissing my temple. “Later, sweet girl. Rest up for me.”
My eyelids flutter, but I can’t keep them open. I slide into the most blissful sleep of my life.
3
Jax
I bring food to our chamber for Riya when she wakes, but our sweet female has hardly moved since the planet rotation before. She’s tucked up against Tarren’s chest, Ronan spooning her from behind. My cousins are awake but seem loathe to move from the hoverdisk—or hoverdisks, plural, since we shoved the three beds together to make one large pallet.
Riya is vecking beautiful in sleep, her cheeks flushed, full lips soft. There’s a line between her brows that even slumber hasn’t erased, though, and it makes me even more determined to learn her fears and erase them one by one.
“Prince Zander—I mean, King Zander, has called another gathering this afternoon,” I tell my cousins.
Tarren scowls at me because my voice makes Riya stir.
Ronan catches the tension in my voice, though, and sits up. “What about?”
“About the rehabitation plan. And repopulation. About Zandian brides.” Was it only the planet rotation before when he’d announced they were working on something? Somehow, I thought things would move more slowly. Teams are still out sweeping the planet for any remaining Finn.
But, of course, there’s no time to waste. He wants us out there rebuilding for precisely that reason—to occupy the entirety of the planet and ensure the domination of our species, meager in numbers though we are.
“Why are you worried?” Riya asks.
She sits up and both Tarren and Ronan pull her back down, stroking her skin, soothing her. But her eyes are trained on me.
I shrug. “There’s some talk about gene tests to determine partnerships. Dr. Daneth has some gene matching program. But we’re all right, because we’re already mated.” I say it, but until Zander approves our match and gives us a homestead, I’m going to stay alert.
My cousins seem to understand my subtext, which is unfortunate, because the crease between Riya’s brows gets deeper. She tries to sit up again and this time my cousins let her.
“I brought you some food, lovely. Humans must eat several times a planet rotation, isn’t that right?”
Her shy smile cracks my chest open wide. “Yes.”
I bring the tray of food over, but she’s already climbing over Tarren, who flashes me a pained look when she brushes his rapidly growing erection.
“I’m just going to run to the washroom,” she says.
We all watch the motion of her bare ass as she walks, and Ronan grabs his cock and groans.
As soon as the door slides shut, Tarren asks, “They wouldn’t take her from us, would they?”
I rub my jaw. “I don’t think so. We claimed her. She’s wearing our crystals. That’s as good as Zandian law.”
“King Zander writes Zandian law,” Tarren says drily. “He could change it to fit his repopulation plan.”
I shake my head. I haven’t even physically claimed her yet, but there’s no changing my mind. “She’s ours. We’ll have to make him see that. He’s a reasonable ruler.”
My cousins nod in agreement.
I hear the sound of the washtube starting in the washroom and the thought of Riya’s naked body under the spray has me moving before I even know my own intent.
My turn.
Veck yes. It’s my vecking turn. I’ve been more than patient to claim my female. I hit the button on the washtube to stop it, grinning when the door slides open revealing a dripping and surprised Riya. I strip quickly and crowd her back into the tube, then restart the water fill.
“Did you think you’d clean off my cousins’ cum before I’ve had a chance to spill in you?
“I was cleaning for you.” Her voice is husky even though her eyes are wide with shock, probably based on the force with which I’ve captured her against the washtube wall.
My raging hard-on throbs at her words. I knock her legs open with my knee, let her feel the state of my agony press up against her most sensitive parts. “Well, I can’t vecking wait, lovely. I’ve waited too long already and now you’re the being who will pay.”
Her breath sucks in, eyes dart in micro movements to focus on my face, which is looming over hers.
“You think I can vecking be gentle with you now, sweet Riya?”
I know I’m being an ass, but I can’t stop myself. I’m too far gone with lust, with need. If I don’t veck this female soon I will explode. I collect her wrists and pin them above her head, swallowing her gasp with my mouth. I kiss her like I want to devour her, lips, tongue, teeth all claiming and abusing her mouth.
Some rational part of me fights to the surface. Riya’s been abused too many times. I break the kiss, backing up to check on my little human. Her eyes are glazed with lust, lips swollen. She pants, staring at me dazedly.
I shove my hips up against hers, my cock blindly seeking her entrance. “You’re not afraid of me, are you, little female?”
She hesitates, but then shakes her head.
I have to go further. To really be sure. “You want this?”
This time, there’s no hesitation before she nods.
Thank veck.
I groan and fist my cock, rubbing the head over her juicy slit. Her flesh plumps, guiding me—no, practically sucking me in.
It’s been ages since I’ve had a female, and it’s not like we’ve had any experience beyond the rare intergalactic prostitute. I groan at the utter ecstasy of being inside her. I don’t know how my cousins stood it without pounding her to bits.
“Riya,” I rasp, my lips against hers, my torso smashing her against the washtube wall. Water fills up all around us, about to engulf our heads, and I don’t care, all I know is Riya. Sweet Riya. I cover her mouth with mine and thrust, lifting her off her feet with the force. Her legs come up to wrap around my waist and I palm her ass to drill into her. I hardly notice the water drain, the light spray of aromatic oil that coats our bodies. It makes her all the more slippery.
“I won’t last long. I need you”—I slam in deep and hard, sliding her up the shower wall—“too”—another brutal thrust—“much.” My voice doesn’t even sound like mine—it’s deep and raspy.
I lose my mind completely. I meant to care for her needs, to make sure she received pleasure, but I’m too far gone. I jackhammer into her like my life depends on it. My hands slip on her ass and one of my fingers slides in her crack.
Her muscles tighten, and I shout.
I’m coming like a battleship in warp speed, but our beautiful human is, too. I press on the little ring of her anus since that seemed to be what set her off and she squeezes even tighter, milking every last drop of cum from my cock.
“Beautiful girl,” I murmur against her neck when I’m able to breathe again. I tap her anus again and her muscles tighten again. “I’m glad you like my finge
r there, because that’s where I’m going to take you next time.” I prop my knee up to hold her pinned to the wall and stroke both cheeks of her ass. “Thinking about vecking this tight little ass of yours has been driving me wild.”
Her muscles squeeze again, even though her whimper sounds a touch afraid.
“Don’t worry, sweet human. You can trust us to make it good for you. We love to hear your moans of pleasure. See your face when you crest the peak.”
She ducks her face and hides it against my shoulder and I chuckle, reluctantly lowering her feet to the shower stall and slipping out of her.
Her arms drape around my neck and she doesn’t drop them, which rearranges my heart in my chest. “You will get to keep me, right?”
Damn. She overheard our conversation. “Yes,” I say firmly.
“Even if—”
When she stops, I disentangle her arms so I can look at her face. Something’s bothering her and I need to know what it is so I can fix it. “What?”
“What if I’m not the best breeder for you? Not the right gene match? What if I don’t get pregnant at all?”
I want to follow up with more questions—figure out what has her worried, but her beautiful golden eyes fill with tears, and my priority becomes comforting.
I pull her against my chest and burrow my fingers in her wet hair, massaging her scalp. “We don’t care if you’re the best gene match, Riya. We’ve already chosen you. And you’ve accepted us. You’re wearing our crystals, lovely. The king won’t deny our claim on you. There’s nothing to worry about.”
Her body shudders as she drags in a breath, but when she pulls away her eyes are dry. She gives a brave nod and steps out of the washtube, which has been standing open.
I give her ass a slap, just because it’s irresistible. “Go eat the food I brought you and report for duty. We’ll see you this afternoon in the plaza for King Zander’s announcement.”
“Yes Master,” she murmurs. It’s an automatic reply, one conditioned into her by a lifetime of slavery, but it goes right to my dick. I know it’s wrong—I should tell her I’m not her master, we’re her mates, but I love the submissive reply too much.
I watch her naked form sashay into our chamber and have to bite my knuckle. My cock’s standing erect again already.
I’m never going to get enough of our little mate.
Riya
I can’t find my mates in the crowd—there are too many beings thronged in the plaza and I arrived late, because one of the humans was in critical condition and required a surgery. Dr. Daneth is unaccustomed to performing surgeries—apparently Zandians don’t require much medical care—so it was a stressful shift with all of us standing at the ready to assist him.
King Zander turns to his gathered subjects and raises his hands, and every being falls silent in respect for their leader.
After sharing a special smile and nod with his mate Lamira, who holds his infant son, Zander clears his throat and activates a voice amplifier. It carries the sound all the way across the broken plaza. “My loyal subjects and honored guests.” He makes eye contact with each Zandian and human in turn. “I am proud to stand before you this planet rotation to announce we are ready to engage in the next phase of Zandian rehabitation, repopulation, and renewal.”
Cheers break out, and Zander holds up a hand for silence. “In order to protect our planet from a new invasion and be sure we have rooted out all infestation of the Finn, we must settle the entire planet. It is a daunting task considering our current numbers, which is why we are implementing a homesteading plan. Our engineers have tested and are satisfied with the DomePod systems, which will allow us to quickly and easily create homesteads. Teams will be assigned an area of land in which to erect a dome.
Each dome will be comfortable, with all the luxuries you deserve. Some of the lands of Zandia were untouched by the Finn and remain pristine. Unfortunately, these are not the areas we are concerned with. Where we need help most is in the over-mined areas. You will be responsible for replanting native plants as well as food crops from Earth to sustain our human population.”
Again, the king sends a special look to his bride, and my heart constricts. Perhaps the Zandians truly are willing to partner with humans rather than rule us.
“Each team will manage crops and make the land fertile. They will also leave their homestead to help create roads, and other infrastructure for our soon to be growing population.”
The area buzzes with low chatter and questions.
How will you pick the teams? Can we choose the location of our dome? Will we get mates? Will we find more Zandians for our planet?
Zander holds up a hand and the crowd instantly falls silent. “You have many valid questions. We believe there are pockets of Zandians around the galaxy who are either trapped, enslaved, or unable to reach us. We will continue to search for them. However, on our planet, repopulation is critical to our survival. As you can see,” he gestured around the room, “Of our unmated females, we have no Zandians, and few human females, compared to many Zandian males. This is not ideal for growing our population.”
Even though I know this is coming, my stomach tightens.
“And therefore,” the king continues, “I have worked with my advisors to develop a new plan. Zandian males who are interested may volunteer for the homestead project. Groups of two to five Zandian males and at least one female mate will be teamed up and each will be assigned their own dome to manage, protect, and enhance the area. Those who stay for a minimum of five solars will then own the land on which they settled.”
He pauses for emphasis. “We will use a new DNA matching program to select the best possible genetic matches for healthy offspring. The female will mate with all of her males, and, star willing, bear many healthy young over the years.”
The chatter grows louder, every being looking around, exclaiming in surprise, and, like the previous gathering, eyeing all of the unattached females with great interest. Even though I’ve been claimed, I cross my arms over my chest and begin to breathe rapidly.
Zander stands taller, and there is silence. “I will say this, to both Zandians and humans. In an ideal society, you would get to choose your mate, or mates, yourself, and at some point in the future, I am confident that we will achieve that again on Zandia. At the moment, you are our valued pioneers, our soldiers, our explorers. You are the ones whose hard work and sacrifice will be listed in the history holos that generations of Zandian children will view hundreds of years from now. You are our heroes. And the hero’s path is not always easy. Know that I, and the future of this planet, honor your sacrifice.”
He bows his head to the crowd, like this is a sacred and meaningful moment, and I see more than one being bow their head back in reply. I guess it would be wrong for me to snort or roll my eyes.
“I thank each of you, Zandians and humans, for entering into this agreement with me and with our future to keep Zandia alive.”
The Zandians lift their fists in the air, elbows bent at ninety-degrees in their traditional salute.
But nerves tighten in my belly. If King Zander insists on gene matching, he’ll discover I’m barren. The Zandians may then have no use for me.
And even if they did have some other use, I can’t deny the stab of pain that thought produces. I don’t want to leave my mates. I’m not ready to give up the pleasure and attention they’ve already brought me.
“If a human female does not approve of her mates, she may petition for a change. Zandians, as well, can apply for a change if their human is not compatible. However, there is little room for choice at this point in our rehabitation. Humans must be sponsored by Zandians to ensure our culture and rules continue as the dominant one on our planet. Because I have no doubt more and more humans will find their way here as refugees or through our purchase for breeding.”
Again, he darts a glance at his bride. It’s commonly known he bought Lamira for breeding based on the gene matching test he wants to do on all of us now
.
“And we will only continue to provide humans with a secure place in the galaxy if they agree to integrate to our society. Follow our rules.” His voice sounds compassionate but firm. “Humans, you have earned your freedom with your assistance during the war, but freedom here comes with obligations and expectations to help rebuild our planet. By accepting this role, you are helping save our race, and yours, from extinction, and I am honored to have you participate. If you do not choose to join us in this endeavor, we will find you the best possible position on another planet.”
Now I almost do snort. Every being in the crowd knows what that means—either going back to a factory or an agrifarm as a slave, working as sex slave, or being a personal pet—all of which are fraught with more danger and horrors than anyone is willing to risk. And considering almost all the non-Zandians had been sentenced to death and were rescued from the Ocretion death pod, leaving would mean certain death.
“Human females—you will accept your mates, and work with them to make your dome a successful, thriving part of Zandia. Zandians—treat your female with the utmost respect and honor. She will provide us with the ultimate reward—our future. You may see Dr. Daneth for training on best practices for breeding and discipline. Above all, you will keep her safe.”
My belly flutters at the word discipline. I experienced a little of their form of discipline the past planet rotation, but I’m sure my mates could be far more… impactful if they’d wanted to be. I imagine that’s why Ronan returned from the doctor’s lab with the box of sexual devices and implements of torture. My sight goes dizzy for a moment before I take a deep breath.
Lily appears beside me and leans in. “Are you all right?” she whispers.
“I’m fine.” As long as they don’t gene test me. I can’t get sent away; I will need to make this work.