by H. E. Trent
“I want to see your hair. Take off that towel.”
Trig did. Slowly. He couldn’t help the hesitance. His hair was one more boundary falling away. The last boundary, actually. Nothing else they could do would be nearly as intimate as her being able to see—to touch—something he’d maintained especially for his lovers.
She stood as Murk returned and reached up on tiptoes to wrap a length of Trig’s hair around her fingers. “So pretty.”
Murk closed the door.
“Does it please you?” Trig whispered.
“Everything about you pleases me. Sit.”
He sat on the side of the bed.
Murk locked the door and put a vial on the bedside table.
Oil.
Trig sucked in some air, already thinking of what could be done with it.
Murk helped Court undress, keeping his gaze locked on Trig. “Even in the dark, you look perplexed,” Murk said with a chuckle.
“I suppose I don’t like being lost. I don’t know what to do.”
Murk gave Court a tender kiss on the lips and turned her for Trig’s inspection. His eyes had adjusted enough in the dark that he could see every important swell. Her heavy breasts, her soft belly and curvaceous hips.
All theirs.
He set his hands on her waist and looked up at her.
“Court, are you pleased that you that you’re the first and only woman he’ll ever have?” Murk asked her.
“I don’t think my ego is nearly as large as yours, Murki. That’s a lot of pressure for a girl.”
“Would you prefer he practice on some others first?”
She shot him a glower over her shoulder. “I’ll teach him everything he needs to know.”
He chuckled. “I figured you wouldn’t like that idea very much.”
Trig didn’t like it so much, either. All he needed and wanted was Court and Murk.
He pulled her between his spread thighs and cupped the back of her head. “You’re the only woman for me.”
She smirked. Kissed him. “You’re just saying that because you don’t know any better.”
“And I never want to. You smell nice.” He pressed his palm against her pussy and spread her honey, drove her up onto her toes.
“Fertile,” Murk agreed.
Court sighed. “Purely human men can’t do that, by the way.”
“You’ve already told us that you Terrans have sex when the mood strikes and not just for procreative purposes, so I imagine they don’t need to be able to. You get the best of both worlds with us.”
“Lucky me.”
Murk hooked his chin over her right shoulder and cupped her breasts, idly tweaked the nipples as he looked down at Trig. “Works best for me if you’re on top. How’s your shoulder?”
“I’m sure it can bear weight for twenty seconds.” He’d be lucky to last fifteen. He probably wouldn’t even be ashamed. He knew once he was inside her, he wouldn’t last and he wouldn’t care.
Murk chuckled. “Not going to try to draw out your first time?”
“Why? There’ll be a second time.”
“Indeed.” Court climbed onto the bed and settled in the middle with her back against the pillows. She scooted down, parted her legs, and beckoned to him. “Let’s get the first time out of the way, then.”
He didn’t so much crawl to her but fall on her, so hungry for her touch, her love. He was in her in seconds, with some fumbling, and nearly spilled his seed before he was fully sheathed. “Gods, you feel so fucking amazing.”
She pulled his chest against hers, rubbed his back, and whispered, “Just be still.”
So hard when he wanted to move, to feel her.
She clenched around him and he bit down into his bottom lip to push back the tide. He could do better. Murk had done better and he’d been ill at the time. He could certainly last longer than that.
Murk swirled fingertips over the base of his spine. “Would distraction help?”
“Don’t know.” He made a shallow thrust into Court. Gods. “I doubt it. Anything you do to me will make me come.”
“Almost. On your knees.”
“You want me to—”
“Pull out? Yes.” Murk climbed onto the bed and sat back on his heels. He squeezed his cock in his fist and pointed the head toward Trig. “Come here.”
Trig pulled out and crawled over.
“That’s right. Think about my cock and not your own.” He guided Trig’s head down to his lap, and Trig opened his mouth wide to let Murk in.
“Second times are important, too,” Murk said, “but I don’t believe that’ll happen tonight. Your job is to satisfy her the first time, do you understand?” He pushed farther into Trig’s mouth and let out a satisfied hiss.
Trig nodded slightly.
“Good. Because she’s going to put you to sleep with her sex, and then there will be a baby to tend to and chores to do, and the second time may not happen as soon as you’d like.” He wrapped his hand around Trig’s hair and gently pulled him up. “Remember, I don’t get her again until you’ve done your job, so I intend to make sure you do.”
Court sighed. “I’ll be happy when we can just fuck indiscriminately and not be concerned with your social mores.”
“Climb onto whichever cock is convenient, hmm?”
She laughed. “Convenient and ready.”
“He’s ready now. He’ll make it good for you.” Murk guided Trig back over to her and reached for the oil.
“I will,” Trig said into her ear. “I’ll try my best.”
“I know you will.”
He eased back into her and this time tried to compartmentalize her silken feel, her wetness. The way her muscles tightened to pull him farther into her.
Murk leaned in and brushed Trig’s hair out of Court’s face. He kissed him, whispered, “She’s not going anywhere. Not going to leave us. Not going to leave us cold. Treat her like you appreciate that.”
“I do.”
“Show her.”
Court squeezed around him once more. He gasped, and pressed his hands to her cheeks. “I do appreciate you. I love everything about you.”
She snapped his bottom lip between her teeth. “I won’t take that for granted.”
Murk skimmed fingers between Trig’s cheeks and oiled him. “Try to relax.”
Murk eased into him slowly, gripping Trig’s hip as he made more room for himself, stretched Trig to his limit. “How’s your shoulder, pretty boy?”
“Hardly worth complaining about.” Trig might complain later, but for the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to care about the twinges.
Murk settled in as far as he could go, and Trig shifted over Court, cupping her cheeks in his hand. Her gaze bore that saucy gleam again. “What’s that for?”
Murk slipped out and then back in.
Trig stifled a moan.
“That,” Court whispered. “Drives me wild when your control is taken away.”
“I still have some.” He thrust into her and away from Murk.
She let out a sigh and tipped back her head. She clamped around him, reminding him that, really, he didn’t.
He set up a slow, excruciating rhythm, stopping frequently to rein in his body’s responses. Too much, but he wanted more. Wanted to explode between them and let them deal with the aftermath. “Maybe one day, we’ll put…put you in the middle.”
Murk pulled his head back by the hair and set his teeth into the flesh between Trig’s shoulder and neck. His nuts drew up tight and belly burned with need. Needed release, needed touch, needed…them, so much.
“Maybe tomorrow,” she whispered. “Would you like me on top of you?”
“Yes.” He might actually prefer her on top. So he could play while she rode him, fondle her gorgeous breasts and see the sheen from her juices on his cock as she rose and fell, rose and fell.
His thrusts sped with his thoughts. He stoked her pussy like a fire that needed building and clasped her wrists beside her face again
st the bed.
He kissed her hard, savoring the taste that was part her, part Murk, and part sweet wine. “You’ll take care of me, right?” he whispered. He shifted his hips to plow deeper into her and to help Murk hit that place inside him.
Trig wouldn’t be long.
“I told you I would a year ago, Trigrian. I meant it. Just in a different way.”
“Good.”
Murk slipped a hand between their bodies and plucked at Court’s clit in between thrusts. Perhaps one day Trig would know what to do and when, but he was fine with taking guidance from Murk for the time being.
Court tipped her head back as her moan built and, acting on instinct, Trig pressed his hand over her mouth just before she screamed.
She spasmed beneath him, around him, setting him off like a Jekhan rocket. Inside her for the first time.
Murk slipped out of him carefully and lowered him to the bed beside Court. He grabbed a blanket, wrapped it around his waist, and padded out to the hallway, likely to the lavatory. Having lived in a house with a Terran floor plan for a while, Trig was starting to see the benefits of having wet areas more convenient to living areas. They weren’t living a strictly Jekhan lifestyle anymore, so converting their home to what they needed made sense. That was why they’d added a kitchen to the space instead of using the one up the path.
They needed to be together, near each other, in one place.
“What are you thinking about, sweetie?” Court whispered against his chest.
“The future, I guess. I haven’t given much thought to it before now. I didn’t really think I had one.”
Murk returned with warm, wet cloths and cleaned each of his lovers before climbing into bed behind Trig. He slung his arm over the two of them and his top leg over Trig. “Probably have an hour before Kerry wakes.”
“Maybe she’ll sleep through the night,” Trig said hopefully.
“Doubtful,” Murk and Court said in chorus.
“That’s all right. I couldn’t move anyway if I wanted to. We can just cuddle.”
“Words that rarely ever pass a Terran man’s lips.” Court’s own lips bussed over his nipple, sending a prickle of urgency down to his tired cock.
Maybe he could go again.
Murk pulled the covers up over them and somehow managed to pull them both closer. “Terran men are lucky to be able to refuse such luxuries. Some of us need touch to survive.”
“Mm.”
Not only that. Men like Trig and Murk needed it to thrive, as well.
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Thank you for reading Erstwhile! Just like in my series The Afótama Legacy, the spark for Jekh Saga started in a dream. For two years, I had the basic outline for this story written in a note on my computer, and I couldn’t put off writing it any longer. (Those hybrid guys are hard to stop thinking about, right?)
Want to see what happens next? We’ll revisit the McGarrys and Beshnis in the next book, featuring Erin, Esteben, and Headron.
Want to be sure you don’t miss a single Jekh Saga release? Subscribe to my sci-fi romance new release e-mails.
When you’re done, click to the next page for a sneak peek of Crux!
CRUX
Erin McGarry fears she’s becoming the very thing she hates. She traveled to the planet Jekh to get her big sister, Courtney, out of a jam, and now Erin has become a colonist, too. In spite of the planet’s unstable political environment and ongoing rioting by the native Jekhans, Erin fears that retreating to Earth would mean she’d never see Courtney again.
To complicate her ordeal further, as one of very few women on a planet of desperate men, people expect Erin to pick a lover—or two—and settle down. With the Jekhan race having nearly been obliterated by Terran colonists, Erin refuses to help further dilute their culture. But at least two men think Erin’s objections don’t hold water.
They may have been enemies at first sight, but Esteben Beshni and Headron Jiro intimately bond over a common goal: making Erin their mate. Just when they think they’ve made headway with convincing her, the men’s efforts are choked by the reemergence of Erin’s long-missing grandfather and by unsettling revelations about the abductors who created the Jekhan hybrid race. If they can’t convince Erin that a mixed-culture ménage is the intergalactic ticket to happiness, they may miss their chance to have children.
How can they help rebuild Jekh if the one woman who wants them both is too idealistic to commit?
___
FROM CHAPTER ONE
2037—Beshni Farm, Planet Jekh
Spying the trespasser’s furtive sprint across the clearing, Erin McGarry threw up her free hand in frustration at her unsuspecting fellow night guard, Headron. She whispered into the night, “Come on, guy. Don’t make me shout at ya.”
Had she been back on Earth and handling business in her familiar Boston stomping grounds, Erin would have had no problem channeling her inner Xena Warrior Princess. She would have knocked the encroacher into the underworld, but just before Erin’s guard shift, her sister—Courtney—had delivered a pretty compelling threat discouraging such antics. The evil elf had propped her hands on her hips and fixed that icy McGarry glare on Erin. “Do that Lone Ranger shit, and I promise you the only coffee you’ll see for a month will be the stains of it on my dresses.”
Court, older by a little less than an Earth year, didn’t believe in wasting words. Erin had no reason to believe the threat wasn’t sincere, and—further—that Court wouldn’t use every resource at her disposal to follow through. Erin had already nursed caffeine withdrawal three times in the six months since she’d followed her sister to the planet Jekh, and she didn’t plan on seeking another invitation to that head throbbing party any time soon.
She tapped the end of her mop-handle-turned-staff against the soggy soil and fixed her compatriot in her sights. Headron was still looking the other way, and the trespasser had nearly reached the edge of the farm’s property between them.
“Damn it, Headron, just look up so I can run.”
He didn’t.
“Fuck.”
Coffee restriction. Again.
She knelt up from her crouch and squinted through the dark toward the retreating figure and the flash of white he held in his hand—the sign that would likely proclaim his possession of the land within the fence’s boundary.
She couldn’t fault Headron for not having his attention solely on her. The would-be land thieves never came alone, and the fact he’d looked away for more than a few seconds meant that there was probably more than one asshole on the premises trying to get their claim notices posted. Sometimes there were two or three. Once, the night guards had been lucky enough to catch four—one at each corner of the fifty-acre spread. There were probably always four, but most ran right after the first one or two were caught. They couldn’t try to take the farm until all four claims were posted. There were few laws for the humans scratching out an existence in Jekh’s rural provinces, but most recognized that the same law that gave them the freedom to easily claim good land also gave the people already living on it the right to bash their skulls in while defending it.
Erin wasn’t going to let anyone take that farm away from her sort-of brother-in-law. Trigrian had already lost too much in the Terran occupation of the planet, including his rights to own what had been his from birth.
“Not fucking fair,” Erin whispered, thumping the end of her staff once more with impatience.
Her privilege in the situation continuously unsettled her—made her aware of advantages she’d never known she’d had before arriving on Jekh.
McGarrys hadn’t had an easy go of things on Earth in the past twenty years since the senior Owen McGarry’s act of supposed treason, but being treated like dog shit on people’s boots was a spa treatment compared to being erased. Nobody deserved that, and certainly not the Jekhans. They hadn’t gone to Earth to invade, but to establish contact with their distant cousins. Apparently, contact wasn’t profitable enough for some businesspe
ople. As soon as the Terrans had figured out how to work Jekhan spaceships, the Jekhans had become second-class citizens on their own planet.
What’s left of them, anyway.
Nearly out of sight, Erin’s quarry streaked across the field, and then ducked beneath a tree branch.
Erin got moving. “Ugh. Divide and conquer. Court’ll have to get over it.”
She scanned the ground for a rock, a piece of fruit, anything, to throw at the back of Headron’s hooded figure. There was nothing handy, and she wasn’t about to throw her good stick at him. That trespassing fool was almost at the gate and was about to rip down the sign that said Court had fairly claimed the place.
Erin leaned her staff onto her shoulder and took off toward the fence.
Ten meters.
Five.
The guy—Terran, of course—hadn’t seen her coming, but they never did. She was too light, too quiet, and they never really thought anyone would catch them. They assumed nobody cooperated out in the boonies, and even suspected the thieves involved in their mission would turn on them should they get caught first. They didn’t understand the people living around Little Gitano. Unlike many other settled places on Jekh, Little Gitano wasn’t ripe to be stolen.
She waited until she saw the whites of the trespasser’s eyes, and his mouth fell open too slowly.
“Wait—”
“Nah.” She arced the bottom end of her staff up fast and hard, leveling the stick out at the side of his eye, and hit him decisively in the temple. She’d made the mistake of allowing her heart to make the decision during a guard scenario before, and that bastard had returned with reinforcements.
Never again.
Court’s sign that he’d ripped down slipped from his hand and he fell hard and backward, a rattling breath fleeing from his open mouth as his head lolled to one side.
“How’s that for stealth, you rat bastard?”
She leaned her staff against the fence, plopped her hands onto her hips, and then stared down at the crumpled pile of man. She clucked her tongue and pushed him over with the toe of her boot.