Demonic Attraction

by Kim Knox

  The cock in her ass sank deeper and then pulled back and she took the one in her mouth, her neck arching to take him, to fill her, to want more. Her skin blazed, her mind spiraling. She wanted them to fuck her, for the cock stroking in and out of her ass with a fast, delicious rhythm, for the tongue curling and lapping never to stop, never—

  The pace of the cock fucking her mouth increased, matching the harder, insistent thrust of the cock pounding into her body. The tongue licked her, his hands digging hard into her thighs, keeping her wide open to him.

  Erratic thrusts had her gasping and the threat of wild release coiled deep in her belly. She wanted them, wanted, needed them all to fuck her, to love her every night.

  “Yes. We want you.” The growl against her ear, the press of firm, smooth lips almost had her bucking and a fierce orgasm rioted through her, blinding her, firing as the cock buried in her mouth found its own release, cool liquid spice flowing in a fast rush down her throat. The cock melted away and Anya sucked in her first full breath.

  The body beneath her shuddered, hands digging deep as he buried himself hard, deep and then he came, his ragged breaths spiking aftershocks under her trembling skin. He too faded away, taking with him the hands that gripped hers.

  The man between her legs pressed a kiss against her wet flesh. He trailed a string of teasing kisses down her damp thighs as the hands cupping her breasts eased back over her skin.

  His head lifted and the smooth sheet formed moving lips, the growl of his voice rippling a delicious shiver. A brief, burning kiss touched her mouth and she tasted herself. “We want you too, Anya. All of us. Thank you for letting us love you, share you.”

  The sheet dropped and she lay alone in the moonlit darkness, her body damp and sated. She caught her fingers in her tangled hair and blew out a hot breath. She kicked away the sheets, the silver light proving it wasn’t simply a vivid, wild dream. Handprints still burned against her breasts, her stomach, lips trailed down her legs and she knew if she turned herself to a mirror it would show a man’s lithe torso reddening her back.

  Cool air washed over her and she shivered. Pulling at the sheet, she curled into it, the spiced scent of her visitors drifting with her. Their smell soothed her, and for a moment she wanted to curl up against their hot bodies and let sleep find her. She sighed. “You’re depraved,” she murmured. “You really are.”

  The soft beeping of the communications panel had her groaning. She let out a slew of curses. She wanted to sleep, not work, but with the arrival of her lovers, she knew this time was coming. Her bare feet dropped to the cool, metal floor and she tugged the sheet with her, wrapping it around her body and knotting it over her breasts.

  The great curves of her room’s windows filled the domed space with the light of the moon her platform orbited and the milky wash of thick starlight. The console ran beneath the windows and Anya dropped onto the low seat and pressed her palm to the ident. “Anya Sigurdson,” she muttered, and couldn’t hold back the hard yawn.

  The screen flashed and she squinted against the sudden glare. “Anya.” Her supervisor’s sharp smile irked her, Stanton’s smooth, perfect features belying his vindictive streak. “Did I wake you?”

  She matched his smile with a smirk of her own. “I’ve taken to wearing a sheet to stave off the boredom.” She straightened in her seat and scratched her shoulder. “Your scheduled check-in is three days from now. Did you start to miss me?”

  “The lab rats have analyzed your recent results and are squealing about strange readings.” Stanton looked to his right, his eyes narrowed. “Data’s streaming from the array that indicates an event occurred only moments ago.” Her supervisor narrowed dark eyes on her. “And you were asleep.”

  “An event?” Anya focused on keeping herself relaxed. She had no intention of sharing her experiences with Stanton. He was the one who’d stuck her out in the backend of space to monitor the massive white star for a bunch of slack-jawed academics. Ones who couldn’t bring themselves to leave Earth’s safe atmosphere. “What sort of event?”

  “A bright flare of unknown energy, focused and they think coming from Alpha-Volantis-7’s largest moon.”

  Anya glanced up to the long curve of the transparent shielding that formed the windows. The moon’s reflected light washed over her, soothing, and she pulled in a slow breath. Was that where her lovers came from? But her equipment had shown no signs of life on any of the white star’s planets and moons. “So,” she brought her attention back to the screen, “what do you want me to do?”

  “Three of these flares have occurred over the past four hours. The lab rats can’t find a correlation yet, but they believe the next one will be in the next three hours.” Stanton’s mouth thinned. “Try and be awake for that event.”

  Her supervisor cut the connection and a sharp burst of laughter broke from her. “Yes, I’ll try to stay awake, Stanton.” She stood and stretched her arms above her head, easing the ache of tired muscles, but unfortunately she was awake now. Unknotting the sheet, she threw it to the bed and padded into the small washing facility.

  “Low lights,” she murmured, and a soft golden hue splashed over the metal walls, the sink and the clear, sealed shower cubicle. For her isolation, the Academy had allowed her the luxury of a water shower and she sighed as she palmed open the door. It sealed around her, ensuring no precious water vapor escaped. Jets splashed over her legs, belly, breasts, shoulders, hair and her hand edged the smooth wet walls to the alcove that held her soaps.

  Lather ran in swift rivulets down her belly, the soft scent of almonds filling the warmed air. Anya sighed and turned her face to the rush of water above her head.

  The sudden grip of hands at her ankles had her gasping and she spat water. “What the—”

  The fingers tightened around her ankles and lips brushed her ear. “Silence.”

  “They’re monitoring you.”

  “We know.” His teeth nipped at her earlobe. “Now close your eyes and stay silent. We need to focus.”

  Fingers gripped her wrists and lifted her arms above her head, and the bizarre sensation of being gripped by hands, stretching her, had a smile tugging at her mouth. Questions buzzed through her thoughts, but if she voiced them, her mysterious lovers would leave her, and she wasn’t quite ready for that.

  A mouth closed over her breast, a pointed tongue teasing, rolling her nipple, and she bit at her lip. Another mouth took her other breast and Anya crushed her eyes against the sharp sparks of need rippling through her body.

  “Why are you doing this to me?” The thought ran clear in her mind.

  “Ah, now you understand.” A smile curved the mouth suckling her right breast. “Voice, your movement, is so much effort. When we could be doing this…”

  Hands gripped her thighs and a nose and tongue nuzzled between the cheeks of her ass. The tongue’s pointed tip teased her puckered hole and Anya let loose a string of silent expletives. Soft laughter rolled over her, prickling her skin, the rush of water stinging.

  “Why me?” The question burned sudden, sharp, and her belly coiled tight with need at the licking tongue pressing hard between her cheeks. The pressure, the promise of that clever tongue had her empty and aching. She wanted more of them, filling her, fucking her.

  “Your flesh is beautiful, succulent, rich. And you enjoy us.”

  “Who are you?”

  “Energy. Unity. The Yalene.”

  Hands gripped her hips, and the press of male hips against hers and the slide of a thick cock over her pussy had her moaning. He pushed, pushed harder, sliding into her and a collective groan, hers, theirs, washed over her, rising above the splash of the water.

  “What do you want from me?”

  “To explore you, your energy. And especially to do this…”

  The hard thrust of the cock had her gasping, the hands still gripping her wrists and ankles holding her firm. It broke into a bone-melting rhythm with the tongue stealing into her ass in hot, twisting curls.
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  “We want to hold you and fuck you, Anya.” His voice had dropped and the low growl flickered fire under her skin. “We claim you. You’re ours.”

  Anya fought to focus, to deny the spirals of need pulsing out from her belly, the need that had her breath short and her chest tight. The mouths on her breasts sucked and licked, their soft, satisfied growls firing through her. By everything unholy, they were driving her insane. “Yours…?” And she had to ask again. “Why?”

  Hot laughter burned over her wet skin. “We’ve never known a creature like you, so responsive, so willing to let us do anything, everything… You’re addictive.” The hands tightened on her hips and the thrusts became faster, harder, the ridges on its length sparking though her blood, curling the need wanting to tear through her. “Now silence and let us love you.”

  Warm hands slid over her jaw and caught in the wild strands of her hair. Lips brushed hers in a slow exploration, a tongue teasing across her teeth. He deepened the kiss and Anya almost groaned. All of them had the most talented tongues… “How many of you are there?”

  “As many as you need.”

  Anya’s blood fired at the thought and the hands, the mouths teasing, playing with her body increased until every inch of her burned with someone’s touch and still they fucked her, warm flesh pressing against her, surrounding her, invading her.

  She met the wild kiss, the only way she could respond to the insanity overwhelming her body. There was no taste of warning coal, only exotic spice and heat, and he met her tongue, teeth, lips with a desperation that matched her own, strong hands cupping her head, holding her. The pressure low in her belly tightened, coiled and the ache to come, grew, deepened.

  The cock pounded her, the tongue in her ass pushing in, deep, deep and then—Anya moaned—flicking—

  Her world exploded in a violent wave of light and heat, too many hands and mouths driving her trembling body through it and onto another wild, surging release. She screamed into the mouth covering hers and felt the final judder of his hips, filling her, mixing with her. Slowly, slowly, she came to her senses, rough palms easing over her, soothing her, letting her hands fall to strong shoulders as the kiss slowed, softened and melted through her.

  A hard body pressed to her breasts, her belly, another to her spine and the two men wrapped around her, warming her, nuzzling her mouth, her shoulders, neck. Anya sighed, sliding her hands over the lithe perfection of the man who kissed her.

  “Would you like us again?”

  The voices all sounded eerily similar. Already hard cocks pressed against her belly and backside. Anya, her eyes still tightly shut, bit at his lower lip. “Really?”

  The man at her back, whose fingers teased down her spine and had fresh need curling low in her flesh, smiled against her shoulder. “With us you are more resilient.” His fingers dipped between her cheeks, teasing over her hole made ready for him by a too-clever tongue.

  Anya bucked, driving her hips against the other waiting cock, which slid through to her pussy in one easy thrust. She released a soundless cry and found her mouth filled with hot tongue. The second cock pushed at her hole, demanding entrance, fingers digging into her hips as he drove hard, deep into her resisting flesh.

  The overwhelming fullness danced sparks behind her eyes, the mouth covering hers denying her air. And then they started to move in a perfect, unhurried rhythm that had her heart pounding and fire flaring in her blood. They were right. Too right. She needed them again. She was becoming almost as insatiable as they were.

  Soft laughter warmed her damp skin and lips brushed her earlobe. “If we could, we’d stay buried in you, fucking you, loving you, sucking you, licking you…”

  The growled words a loud, rasping hot breath over the shell of her ear had her chest tight and her body aching for more of them, for a harder, faster pace, for the orgasm that burned tighter, tighter…until it exploded, surging through her body in a blistering wave of joy. They came as one, grabbing at her, pulsing into her, low, satisfied groans searing aftershocks through her body. His mouth met her need, tangling with hers as she fought her way through the wildness.

  It ebbed away and tender fingers brushed her cheek before, with a final soft kiss, the mouth left her. Her head fell forward onto a hard shoulder and she breathed in the now-familiar scent of their warm skin. They all smelled the same too, a hint of spices and the lush scent of great sex.

  A fast, insistent beeping broke through ragged breathing and the soft splash of water.

  “Your supervisor,” murmured the man behind her, a smile in his voice. “I think there’s been another event.”

  Chapter Three

  Anya couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “Damn, missed it. I was in the shower.”

  “Thank you, Anya.” Gentle hands lifted her head and placed a tender kiss on her forehead. “We want you, need you.”

  “Need me?”

  But they were fading, easing from her flesh as if they were never there. She willed her eyes open and found herself alone in her shower. Her gut tightened, missing the contact of how they’d held her, soothed her. She turned her face to the warm jets of water and quickly soaped her body clean. Her palms followed the paths rougher hands had taken and little quakes rippled through her flesh.

  She smiled and rinsed her hair. Only a few hours and they had her as addicted to them as they seemed to be with her.

  She stepped out of the shower, the door rushed shut behind her and she grabbed at towels. Wrapping them tight around her body and hair, she padded into her room. The alarm from the communications console had become more rapid, louder. Anya dried her palm against her hip and activated the device.

  “Where the hell—?” Stanton glared at her. “You missed the event because you were in the shower?”

  “You’re wasted as an administrator. Your powers of deduction—”

  “Anya.” The fury lacing her name broke her words. He straightened in his seat and his expression slid into a more professional mask. “I’m sending a team in. Direct transport. Whatever this is, it’s unpredictable and more than one engineer can monitor.”

  “What? Wait!”

  But Stanton had already cut the connection, the long screen flashing black. Panic bubbled through her. More people meant it would be blatantly obvious that the events were beings screwing her—and quite thoroughly. The shallow thought also twisted that with more choice, her lovers would move on to more interesting flesh.

  Warm hands gripped her shoulders and she yelped, hastily shutting her eyes.

  “We came here for you, Anya. No one else.” Warm lips brushed her neck, lightly nipping at sensitive skin. A sigh had her shivering. “We’d be insane to give you up.”

  “What’s your name? What can I call you?”

  At her words, the hands faded from her skin, the voice distant as he said, “Call us Damianos.”

  “Damianos.” Anya rolled the word around her tongue and found she liked it.

  She willed herself away from the console. Stanton had sent a direct transport—or was about to—and that a small, ultra-high-speed craft held a team of three. Glancing at the time glowing against one of the consoles, she rubbed the towel over her head. 0500. The transport could dock in under four hours. She had to make herself and her platform look presentable. They weren’t packing her off because she was inefficient.

  The full gleam of the moon shone into her circular bedroom, and for a moment she allowed its delicate beauty to wash over her. Damianos came from its gray-cratered surface and she would be damned if they dragged her from it.

  * * * * *

  Anya fiddled and then straightened the stubby collar of her gray service suit. Her fingers moved to the tight weave of her hair before she found control and fixed her hands behind her back. She stood at the clear doors to the curve of the docking bay, watching the slow, smooth maneuvering of the sleek transport into the waiting clamps. Her chest rose and fell in a steady rhythm, and she ignored the tight cramp of her gut.“Com
puter, crew manifest.” Now they were practically in her front room, her platform had access to the transport’s data core.

  “Nathan Croft, pilot. Doctor Thain Alder, physicist, and Doctor Keve Blayne, xenoarchaeologist.”

  The last one caught her breath. They’d been no evidence of alien civilization in the Alpha-Volantis system. Did they now suspect life forms from the energy readings? Had the platform revealed evidence of them with her? Her checks before their arrival had been hurried, only surface level. Nothing had shown, but had her stupid computer system happily rattled off the data to Earth, revealing Damianos’ existence?

  Anya forced herself to be calm and she would happily let the arriving crew think it was her two months of isolation that had her so jittery.

  The final slow shunt of the transport into the clamps rippled though the platform and Anya shifted her feet to keep her balance. “Docking complete,” murmured the computer.

  The clear doors slid back and chilled air prickled against her skin. A door formed in the smooth skin of the ship, flowing back against the hull to reveal a black interior. Anya stood at ease, wanting to give the impression of a calm and slightly bored platform engineer.

  “Anya Sigurdson.” A tall, dark man with the flight insignia of a senior pilot strode toward her, meaty hand outstretched. “Nathan Croft.”

  His hand, warm, hard, enveloped hers and the physical contact ran shivers under her skin. Croft’s gaze narrowed on her, but she met it with a polite smile. “You made good time, Mr Croft.”

  He dropped her hand and glanced back to his ship. “I would’ve been here earlier, but my passengers wanted a little detour.”

  “A detour?” Two men stepped down from the transport, both wearing the florid insignia of the Academy under the right shoulders of their black service suits. One man with dark golden hair twitched a smile, the other one darker with a stern face and sharp green eyes fixed his gaze on her. Anya felt his look down to her toes and fought the need to step back, hide from him. Her gaze darted to the name below the insignia. Keve Blayne. Shit. He knew something.