Taken
© 2009 Anya Bast
Anne's morning starts like any other normal day—and ends in a race for her life. The surprise that
interrupts her regular date with a latte looks a lot like Frankenstein, except this monster is for real. And it chases her straight into the arms of two mouthwatering hunks who whisk her away from everything she knows. That would be Earth.
Suddenly life isn't so normal anymore.
Caleb and Van have been watching Anne for several weeks. Women are scarce in their world, a situation that sometimes forces two or more males to share one wife between them. Anne is their perfect match. Now all they have to do is convince her of that—while trying desperately not to let their intense desire for her scare her away.
Then there's the little matter of protecting her from the Guardians, who want to make sure no match is ever made...
Warning: Contains explicit language, ménage a trois sex scenes and big scary monsters Enjoy the following excerpt for Taken:
Van gave a low, throaty laugh that gave her goose bumps. “It's something Caleb and I have done often, shared a woman. You're different, of course, more meaningful to us. All the same, we will take the lead.
And once we've started"—he raised his hand another inch, until his index finger touched her cunt—"you won't be worried about the logistics anymore. Just leave that to us."
Gah part two. Her mind stuttered for a moment before she could form a coherent thought. Okay, so where was the downside again? It was ... er, where?
"Uh, okay."
Van gave her a slow, sure smile that made her feel warm and a little achy.
Caleb leaned in and kissed her earlobe. “In the bedroom where you woke up, there is a door leading to the bathroom. Stay here, finish your meal, then go there in about five minutes.” Van and Caleb slid from their seats and left the kitchen.
Oh God, what was she doing? Had she seriously just agreed to have sex with the two men who'd abducted her that very morning? What the hell was going on in her head? Was she completely hormone blinded? If she was, could she be blamed? She shook her head and stared out the kitchen window at the perfectly idyllic scene beyond it. Right now, she was alone. If she wanted, she could get up, leave the house and walk out into the forest. Of course, then she had a host of other problems. What alien creatures lurked in those surrounding trees? Where was the portal anyway?
Was there even a portal at all?
And, by the way, what healthy, unattached, red-blooded woman with a positive attitude about sex let an opportunity like this slide past? It's not like she would be betraying someone she'd left behind. Her career had dominated everything in recent years, though she had been dating fairly steadily. She was just ...
picky. A man had to be really special in order to compete with her first love—the law. She hadn't met any man yet who had challenged that primary passion of hers.
So why not play?
Portal or no portal, coma or no coma, she was not going to allow this opportunity to pass her by. She pushed her bowl away, stood and walked into the bedroom where she'd awoken. Candles lit the round room, casting a rosy, flickering glow over the satin bedclothes of the large, round-shaped bed she'd slept in. A fire burned merrily in the hearth.
The bathroom was large with fluffy rugs covering the tiled floor. A huge bathtub took up one corner. The warm water within softly circulated with the help of gentle jets. Caleb and Van were nowhere to be seen, but surely they had been the ones to fill the tub.
She shed her clothes and laid them over a chair in the corner, near a standing shower. There was a black hair clip on the counter and she twisted her long hair up and secured it so it wouldn't get wet. Then she walked up the steps to the tub and sank into the welcoming water. Anne couldn't stifle the deep groan of pleasure that issued from her throat as the heat entered her muscles and relaxed them.
She had just rested on one of the ledges circling the inside of the tub when Van entered the room wearing only a towel. Caleb followed soon after, also dressed in only a towel. The light in the room was dim, but she traced each of their chests, shoulders and arms with her gaze in the time it took them to cross the room and reach the bathtub. Caleb was leanly muscular and smooth of chest, whereas Van possessed a smattering of golden hair. Both of them had broad shoulders, narrow hips and washboard abs. Both of them were any woman's fantasy fodder.
Van whipped his towel off and slid into the water. She got only a glimpse of his cock, nestled in a tangle of gold hair, sculpted thighs and a curved, perfect ass. Caleb entered the water more slowly, dropped his towel at the edge and sliding down into the water. It gave her a chance to check him out fully. She loved what she saw.
This moment, with the gazes of these two men on her so hungrily, made up for much of the hardship and stress she had endured throughout the day.
"Do you like the water?” Caleb asked, as he eased to one side of her.
"It's incredible. It's different in some subtle way from the water I'm used to."
Van moved to her other side. He pushed a few escaped wet tendrils from her hair clip over her shoulder and studied her face for a moment before speaking. “It is naturally cleansing water. You do not need soap. Also, it has minerals in it that will relax your body and help you sleep, cara . You will need extra sleep for a while after having gone through the portal. It's a sort of inter-dimensional jet lag."
"Uh, huh.” Her thoughts were miles away from the bath water.
Both men leaned in at the same time to kiss along her throat and nibble under her ear lobe. Her breath caught in her throat and her body began to tingle. In unison, their hands moved over her body. Van touched her breasts and Caleb slid his hand up her thigh under the water.
"I-I thought you guys wanted to bathe me."
Van gave a throaty laugh. “We'll get around to it ... eventually.” He played with her nipple, gently brushing his fingers across it until it responded and hardened. “Tell us you don't like this. I dare you,” he murmured.
"Uh. It's true I feel very good around you both. I feel safe and not at all self-conscious and very, very
horny."
Caleb took her hand and placed it on his erect cock. “It's the chemistry between us. You're not the only one feeling it."
She closed her fingers around him and pumped. Caleb let out a groan that made her cunt pulse with pleasure. He forced her mouth to his for a possessive kiss.
At the same time, Van slid his hand down from her breast to her stomach and then to her thighs. Gently, he urged them apart and slipped up to touch her. Her breath hissed out of her, heating Caleb's mouth, and she shivered despite the warmth of the water. Van found her clit and rubbed. It responded instantly to his touch, growing swollen and exquisitely sensitive.
Caleb sealed his mouth over hers once more and also slid his hand between her thighs. While Van stroked her clit, Caleb found the entrance to her cunt and slid one, then two fingers inside her. She moaned against his tongue, feeling the stretch of her most intimate muscles as her body adjusted to his invasion. Having both their hands on her at one time was beyond delicious. Van seemed to know just how to touch her, just how to tease her clit to the edge of orgasm. Caleb eased his fingers in and out of her in a perfect rhythm. It was almost as if the two men were communicating in some way to make sure they timed their movements in the best way to drive her crazy.
If the tube's a-rockin', don't come a-knockin'...
Close Encounters
© 2009 B.H. Dark
Odilia is a nice planet. The sky is purple, the grass is yellow, the property prices aren't that bad. But reproduction is painful, solitary, and asexual. Which is why the Odilians find the recently discovered
“X-rated” disks from Earth so fascinating. And why the money-making scheme they're hatching is so brilliant.
The plan is simple: abduct four Earthlings and juice them up on a heady pheromone cocktail. Then plop them in a variety of titillating holographic scenarios an
d market the results as reality entertainment—for vast profits.
The four chosen humans are strangers to each other, but not to life's disappointments. Leandros, a lounge singer who's never committed to anything longer than an Elvis medley. Eve, an interior designer who's living a life much more beige than bold. Beau, a laid-back car mechanic who wants more from life than oil changes. And Cassandra, an innocent debutante who's learned most of her sexual know-how from self-help books.
As unwilling—okay, sort of willing—stars of the Odilians’ budding intergalactic porn empire, the four of them consider their options. Relax and enjoy the ride? Try to escape?
How about fall in love?
Warning: This book contains voyeuristic aliens, hologram cowboy orgies, big dildoes, disco, and gratuitous use of the word “baby".
Enjoy the following excerpt for Close Encounters:
"Oh my."
Cassandra blinked and stared around her. Somehow, she was in a perfectly square room, sitting on a heart-shaped bed. Thick red shag carpeting covered the floor and walls. And there was a...
A mirror on the ceiling?
She wasn't at home. This was most definitely not Foxborough, Connecticut. People in Foxborough didn't tend to go for red heart-shaped furniture.
Was it real? She gingerly touched the satiny bedspread. It felt real. She got up and looked through the open door, which led to a rather lavish tile and chrome bathroom with a heart-shaped tub. That looked real, too. Tacky, but real.
Unless this was a particularly lifelike dream. She'd had some very lifelike dreams lately, dreams where when she woke up she had to lie in bed and catch her breath for a few minutes before she could remember where she was and who she was. Dreams that were populated by strange, shadowy people, and weirdly intense feelings.
This could be one of those dreams. Except it appeared that she was alone.
Experimentally, she gave herself a hard pinch on the arm. It hurt.
"Wake up,” she told herself. Nothing happened.
"I'm Cassandra Mary Elliot, of 46 Maple Street, Foxborough, Connecticut, USA,” she said aloud. Her voice sounded flat, its loudness absorbed by the shag carpeting. “I'm twenty-one years old, and I am probably dreaming right now."
Well, she knew who she was, anyway. That was a step up. Unless she wasn't really Cassandra Elliot of Maple Street, Foxborough, and she was only dreaming that she knew who she was.
Cassandra shook her head. It didn't do to think too much in dreams. She'd read a book about it recently. You should relax and enjoy and forget about logic and reality.
That decided, she sat down on the heart-shaped bed and looked around her. There was something weird about this room, besides the fact that nobody in Foxborough would be seen dead in somewhere like this, and that she shouldn't be here either. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, though.
Instead, she tried to remember what her last waking thought had been. She'd read that sometimes when you fell asleep your brain kept on going over what you had been thinking about and your dreams reflected that.
But the last thing she could remember was sitting in her bedroom, at her desk, half-heartedly studying because she couldn't sleep. Cassandra looked down at herself; she was wearing her cream satin nightgown and her green Chinese silk bathrobe. Well, she hadn't been wearing that before. She'd been in
flannel pajamas. And there was no way on Earth that she would be wearing this outfit in somebody else's bedroom; she practically blushed every time she put in on in her own bedroom, where nobody could see her.
So she must be dreaming. It was good she'd got that settled, anyway.
"Hey, hi there."
A deep voice, slow and drawly and masculine.
Cassandra's head shot up. And immediately she knew what had been weird about the room on top of its general weirdness, because there was an open door in the room and there hadn't been any doors before except for the one leading to the bathroom.
But now there was a door open in the wall across from her. And a man standing in it.
Cassandra scrambled further onto the bed, as if it would give her protection. The man was tall and strong-looking. He had long straight brown hair that tumbled over his shoulders and a goatee around his mouth. And he was wearing—this got worse and worse—faded jeans, a black leather jacket, and a black T-shirt that had some rock band's name printed on it.
"Who are you?” She couldn't keep the fear out of her voice.
The man regarded her evenly. “My name's Beauregard B. Bryson, but you might as well call me Beau because everyone does. Is this your place?"
"I—I'm not sure. If it's my dream, I guess it's my place. But it's a little strange."
Beau nodded, slowly. “Yeah. Well, I'm glad I'm not the only one who feels like they're having an acid flashback.” He stepped forward and Cassandra retreated a little further back on the bed. It might be her dream, but she wasn't so sure that he wasn't a psycho rapist. She'd seen a photograph of a psycho rapist one time in the newspaper and she was pretty certain he'd been wearing a leather jacket and a rock band T-shirt. It might even have been the same rock band he was wearing.
Instead of leaping onto the bed and raping her, he held out his hand. “Guess we'd better get to know each other if we're dreaming together."
His hand was big. The nails were short and his fingers looked pink and scrubbed. Cassandra took his hand and shook it as if it were the tail of a rabid raccoon she thought was going to spin around and bite her at any moment. Despite her fear, it felt warm and welcoming.
Beau smiled. “What's your name?"
If it was a dream, it probably wouldn't do any harm. “Cassandra."
"Hi there, Cassandra.” He sat down on the bed beside her. Cassie tried not to breathe too much, but she couldn't help noticing that he smelled of soap and something minty, like gum. “Do you think we should go have a look around this place and see where the hell we are?"
"I don't know.” Something occurred to her. “How did you make the door happen?"
As soon as she said it she realized it was a bizarre question, but Beau just nodded and shrugged.
“Dunno,” he said. “I thought of there being a door and there it was, and there you were."
"That's weird."
"Yup."
"Maybe it's just a coincidence."
"Maybe."
"Do you remember how you got here?"
"Nope. Last thing I remember I'd just beat my brother at poker and I was watching a rerun of Wheel of Fortune . That's why I thought it was a flashback. The spinning lights can do that to ya."
Cassandra nodded, though she wasn't sure what he was talking about. “Maybe you're right, we should go and look around and figure out where we are."
"Can't hurt,” Beau said amiably. He stood up and offered her his hand again, presumably to help her off the bed. Flustered, she ignored it and slid off the bed by herself. Her bathrobe rode up her legs and she tugged it back down before she stood up. When she looked at him, Beau's gaze was on her bare legs where she'd just covered them, and she blushed.
"Uh,” he said, and ran his hand through his long brown hair. “I guess we'd better start with that door.”
He went to it, still open in the carpeted wall, and waited for her to join him.
Well, if he was going to rape her, it seemed like he'd have done it when they were sitting on the bed together. And really she might as well see what this dream was all about before she woke up. She joined him at the door and they walked out into the corridor together.
It looked like a hotel corridor: long, papered in beige, with sunken lighting and tastefully patterned carpet. Soft music piped in. They walked down the hallway in silence, their footfalls muffled by the carpet. Beau's legs were much longer than Cassandra's, but he walked slowly to keep pace with her, and she could smell the clean scent of his hair.
The hallway ended in a single white door. It had a gold handle.
"I guess this is it,” Beau said and he reached ou
t and twisted the knob. Even though Cassandra knew this wasn't real, she still held her breath with trepidation as he opened the door.
The vast room beyond was lit with a dim blue light. It seemed to be coming from a large transparent blue tube in the centre of the room that stretched from the floor upwards toward a distant ceiling. The walls of the room were invisible, shadowy and too far away to perceive.
"Cool,” said Beau appreciatively and he stepped inside the room. Cassandra followed him, looking down at their shadows, cast long by the light from the hallway behind them.
And then their shadows disappeared along with the light.
Cassandra whirled around. There was nothing behind them but darkness. The door was gone.
"Beau—” she started.
She felt his hand curl around hers. She blinked, and tensed, and the world dissolved around her and then reformed.
They were inside the blue tube. She held out her hand and knocked on the wall of it. It felt like some kind of strong, thick glass. There wasn't a light source; the walls themselves seemed to be glowing.
"What's going on?” she asked. Beau was close beside her. The tube wasn't that wide, but there was enough room for them to stand and move around a little bit.
"Beats me."
There was a noise, something like a vent opening, and a rush of air. She felt something warm whoosh over her skin and breathed in a smell that seemed familiar somehow. Appealing, exciting.
Heat flushed through her body. But it wasn't like any heat she'd ever felt before—not like the warmth from sunshine, or an open fire. It came from deep inside her and radiated from her center into her limbs, making her fingers tingle, her breasts feel heavy, her belly melting, sending a pure sizzling lightning bolt between her legs.
"Oh my,” she gasped.
She heard a deep growly sound from next to her and realized it was Beau. She felt Beau like a magnet beside her. She could hear his breathing, hear his heart, feel him warm and big and alive beside her, and she suddenly felt more hungry than she'd ever been in her life.
Very Much Alive td-1 Page 15