Ferocious lust pounded in his veins. His fangs throbbed with the need to score her dark skin. He inhaled deeply. “I can smell your arousal,” he told her. He ripped the sheet out of her grasp and bared her naked body to his roving eyes. “Are you wet for me?” he growled.
“Yes…yes. I’m so wet.”
He needed to see and feel his Bride’s pleasure. He reached down and plunged two fingers into her beautiful pink pussy. She sighed with relief. She was ready for him. The cream between her legs coated his hand.
The wall was closer. He pulled his fingers out of his Bride’s core. He lifted her by the ass, walked them back a few steps and braced her against the wall.
He held her up easily with one hand, gripped his cock and showed it to her. “Look at me,” he ordered.
Her eyes widened. “You…you have ridges on your…like you have on your forehead.”
He grunted. “This is the last cock you will see, the only one you ever use. This cock is yours now, and your pussy is mine.”
He didn’t wait for her answer and spread her thighs apart with his hips. “Watch,” he told her. “Watch as I claim your pussy.”
She panted in anticipation. He grinned, happy to see his Bride caught in the storm of their initial mating hormones. He worked his way inside of her, and they both watched as her pussy slowly made way for his shaft. The fit was tight. It was one of the best moments of his life, second only to the moment he’d spilled his seed inside of her last night, creating their first offspring.
When his shaft bottomed out, he bent his head and took one of her soft human nipples into his mouth, sucking hard as he started sliding back and forth. “Yes,” she gasped. “Please, just like that. Oh God, those ridges, I can feel them…” She held on to his biceps, and he felt her pussy flutter around his shaft. A now familiar tingling raced up the base of his spine; his balls tightened in anticipation. He was close already. He bit on her nipple before he let go of her breast with a pop, lifted her higher against the wall and started to jerk his hips against hers, lifting her slightly with each thrust. Her head dropped back against the wall. He buried his face in her neck and breathed in her addictive scent.
“Oh, honey, I’m about to…”
He braced an arm against the wall and one under her ass as he pumped inside of her. Her pussy clamped down on his cock, and she screamed as her completion swept through her. At the same time, his own release struck, and his hips jerked as he jetted his seed into his Bride’s tight pussy, again and again. The pleasure so intense, his knees weakened.
He sagged against her warm figure, his body replete with the satisfaction of mating with his Bride and the attendant emotions that tightened his chest. One thought was foremost in his mind.
He was never letting her go.
Chapter Five
Holy shit, this alien was potent.
He was so dangerous in bed he needed to be classified—his status: Top Secret.
After he fucked her senseless, her new alien husband carefully carried her into the cleansing unit that was inside the small bathroom in his quarters and cleaned her. He easily swept her up in his arms, like she was light as a feather instead of six feet tall and dense as concrete. She’d squealed like a teenager, because this had never happened to her before in her life, having a man carry her in his arms. Her eyes watered over how goddamn romantic it was.
He placed her down gently in the stall of the shower, or cleansing unit as he called it, and turned the water on. She tried to clean herself, but he growled, letting her know this was his role as her mate. “Okay, okay,” she gasped. He washed her short hair and ran his clawed hands reverently over every part of her body, cleaning and roaming. He seemed to enjoy his role as her husband, his “mate,” as he called her. The whole thing was too strange.
How could she resist? Resistance was futile when it came to this man. His wet hair fell straight down his back in shiny waves of dark amber. Water cut across all of his dips and planes. The perfect definition at his hips was particularly mesmerizing, as was his cock with those amazing ridges that when inside of her felt like a vibrator specially crafted for her pleasure. It was hard again and begging for her attention.
On the slave ship, he’d touched her, deciding on the spot that she was his. From his first touch she’d been consumed with raging hormones like nothing she’d ever experienced. As a matter of fact, she could fuck him again. Climb on top of him right now. Which was kinda pathetic, and scary, too.
She’d never felt like this about any man. Not for the boyfriend who’d torn her heart out freshman year at college when she’d caught him cheating on her with her BFF. And also not for Roberto, the high school boyfriend she’d given her virginity to in the back of his truck, only to later realize she was part of his rotating harem of girlfriends.
None of these other boys were as remotely sexy as this giant male in the shower.
When Joyzal was done washing her, he turned on an air blower that instantly dried them both. It was a weird rush of wind like a whole-body blow dryer. Joyzal grinned at the shocked expression on her face as the air had blasted them both. One moment they’d been wet, and the next they were dry, no towels needed. Jacole was pleased with the results because strangely, when she looked into the mirror, her short hair was placed in perfectly arranged, gleaming curls and looked a little more Xylan.
Joyzal left her alone in the restroom so she could use the toilet. She giggled at all the buttons it had. Heated seat or gentle massage? She choose the heated seat and for air freshener to waft up during use. It was all pretty darn cool. She could get used to this. Afterwards, she stepped out of the restroom, naked as the day she was born, and Joyzal immediately handed her some clothes.
“This is all I have for you to wear at the moment. This ship has a clothing manufacturing device, but it is basic. I will purchase more for you when we return to Zamarilla,” he said before he walked into the restroom. She stood there alone for a minute, still awestruck by the vision of Joyzal’s beefy ass as he’d walked away and shut the door behind him. Because, wow, that image was a poster she could objectify every damn day.
She shook her head and reoriented on the here and now and checked out the clothes he’d given her. She unfolded a large blue tunic with a V neck and a pair of black billowy pants. She put them both on. The shirt went down almost to mid-thigh, and the pants were a bit long, but not bad. She liked how the pants were so light and silky. The top was substantial but still felt very soft, she didn’t have a bra and she was worried her girls were a little too “out there.” Oh well, what could she do about it? Nothing. She stepped into the pair of light boots that came with the outfit. Normally, shoe fitting consisted of her trying to shove her large feet into tiny shoes, feeling like Cinderella’s evil stepsisters, but these shoes fit perfectly.
Joyzal walked back in. “Do the clothes fit?”
“Yes,” she answered, grateful yet again to be clean and clothed properly after her ordeal on the slave ship. She’d never take a warm bed, shower, and a toilet for granted ever again.
A pleasant chime sounded throughout the ship. Jacole turned her head. “What is that?”
“There is an incoming vid message for Joyzal of Six,” the computer intoned. “From Melachine of Eighteen”
“Who?” Jacole asked.
Joyzal shook his head, and a rueful smile formed on his lips. “It’s my mother. She suffers from chronic bad timing.”
“What?” she sputtered. Jacole hadn’t imagined this badass warrior would have something so mundane happening in his life as taking calls from his mother. “Your mother is calling you? Are you kidding me?”
“No, I am not kidding you. And why would I make light of this situation? Also, Xylans do not lie,” he continued. “We are honorable. Other species tell untruths. Xylans always tell the truth, no matter the outcome. Truth is first in honor. Computer, tell Melachine that I will answer her call in a quarter rotation.”
“Confirmed.”
“Why i
s your mother calling you? Aren’t you supposed to be on a mission? And wait, I thought you said you were an orphan.”
“She is my adoptive mother,” he answered as he opened a drawer and took out a tunic and pants for himself. Both were black and similar to what she was wearing. “When I last spoke to Melachine, she was trying to set up mating compatibility with the youngest daughter of an esteemed line on Chronos. I told her no, and she was disappointed. She is calling from our home on Zamarilla—the home you and I will share.”
She froze. “You live with your mother?” Oh dear God, had she mated with the alien equivalent of a guy who was living in his mom’s basement?
“Yes,” he said as he pulled the tunic over his head, covering his magnificent chest. She did her best to ignore the gorgeous penis that was resting against his thighs. “All Xylans live in the same compound as their extended line. This is common. Is it not the same on your planet?”
She thought about it. “Well, yeah, I think a lot of people actually do live that way, with extended family. But a lot of people don’t. I lived alone.”
He nodded and pulled on his pants, covering that lovely ridged cock, a total eclipse of the sun. She forced herself to lift her chin and meet his gaze. “I also lived alone for many rotations,” he answered. “But I find it preferable to live with family.”
She stepped forward, put her hand on his forearm and gripped tightly. Her lips formed a thin line. “Wait. Do you want me in here while you talk to her? Do you want her to see me? How will she feel about this if she was trying to set you up with someone else?”
Joyzal chuckled and bent down to put on his own boots. “When Melachine finds out that you are my Bride, she will be the happiest of females.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” He stood up straight. “Follow me. We will speak to her on the bridge.”
Joyzal placed his palm on a square panel on the wall and the door to his room swished open. He escorted her out with a hand on the small of her back. As they walked down the hall, he reached down and enveloped her small hand with his big, rough claws. Warmth for this man heated within her chest. It wasn’t fair that he was so wonderful and yet in the end unattainable. She had to admit this was a man who she wished there was no end date for. But he was temporary. All men were. She needed to never forget that simple rule. It was the only way to save her heart.
Her mind flashed back to the shower they had taken together and the incredible sex. The emotions glowing in his eyes when his coarse shaft had pounded into her…
The door to the bridge swooshed open. A cool breeze brushed against her hot cheeks. She did her best to ignore the warmth that seemed to continuously flare between her thighs whenever she thought of her time with Joyzal. She was about to meet his mother. This was getting serious. And she didn’t know how she felt about that.
“Computer, turn on the vid screen,” he ordered. “We are ready to accept.”
A screen blinked on the wall next to them. An elegant Xylan female appeared before them, darker skinned than Joyzal and, in fact, darker than Jacole. Her skin glowed with a luminous sheen. Her hair was swept off her face and formed dark, gold-tinted, shiny rows over her shoulders. She was dressed in a blue blouse with extra fabric that crossed over her chest. There were creases around her eyes and gray near her temples. She had the same serious-looking ridges on her forehead as Joyzal, and when she lifted her hands Jacole saw the Xylan four claw-tipped fingers, except Melachine’s claws were painted the same color as her shirt.
Classy.
Joyzal stood directly in front of the vid screen, blocking his mother’s view of her as he spoke. “Good morning, Melachine.”
“Joyzal.” She nodded. “I know you said we would discuss this further upon your return, but—”
Their voices faded away. Jacole looked down at her own clothes. After seeing the way Melachine was put together, she couldn’t help feeling she wasn’t exactly dressed to meet her future mother-in-law. Even if she had zero trust in this relationship, this woman would still be a major player in her life for the foreseeable future. She needed to build a new life with these people and here she was, in clothes that were too big and looked like loungewear, no make-up, and no jewelry. Damn. She really wanted to make a good impression.
Joyzal stepped aside. Jacole looked up. “Mother, this is Jacole of One. She is my Bride.” Her heart warmed at the pride for her she heard in his voice.
She met Melachine’s gaze and smiled. “Actually, I’m named after my great-grandmother. She was the first Jacole. I’m the second.”
Joyzal grinned. “Mother, I reintroduce you to my Bride, Jacole of Two.”
“Your Bride?” his mother gasped. Her eyes were wide as they scanned up and down, examining every inch of Jacole. Her clawed hands went to the sides of her cheeks for a moment. She was practically bouncing with happiness. “Oh, she’s beautiful. Joyzal, your Bride is perfection. Your line will be strong. But…how…? Joyzal, where did you find a female of royal pigment to test for mating compatibility? You were on a mission. This is impossible…” she sputtered.
“She is human,” he answered patiently. “She’s not Xylan. If you look closely, you’ll see she is lacking ridges and claws. There was no need for her to be offered by her line. She doesn’t have a line on Chronos.”
“Human? What is that?”
“I’m an Earthling,” Jacole interrupted, hoping she could help to explain better. “I live, well, lived on the planet Earth until I was kidnapped by alien space pirates.”
“She was on the ship when I recovered my last target,” Joyzal confirmed.
“You rescued her? Is that why your hair is shorn? Is that because of your captivity, or do humans choose to do that to their hair?”
Jacole touched her short hair. “Um, I chose to do that.”
“Can it grow back if left alone?”
“Yes, it can.”
“Good.” Melachine smiled brightly. She looked toward Joyzal. “So you saw her and offered to put her honor before yours, of course.”
“Of course,” Joyzal answered, sounding annoyed she’d even asked. “I kneeled before her and spoke the appropriate offering as was expected of a warrior, and…she offered me her hand.” There was clear pride in his voice. He turned and met Jacole’s gaze, his eyes turning dark with passion. Her stomach swooped. Dear God, this man was hot. She was putty in his hands.
Melachine gasped again and looked back at Jacole, her hand at her neck, her eyes wet. “You did? You offered my son your hand for mating compatibility?”
“Yes…” Jacole answered. Shit, this offering of the hand thing had been big-time, hadn’t it? She’d had no idea when she put her hand out to help him up it had actually been a whole huge thing in Xylan mating rituals. She really needed to learn Xylan etiquette, fast. At this rate of failure, she’d be accidentally starting wars before she knew it. “To be truthful, because I’m human I had no idea when I offered him my hand that I was doing this testing for mating compatibility thing. I thought I was being nice and helping him off the floor. It is a human custom to offer a helping hand. It had nothing to do with mating.”
Melachine looked both confused and worried. “Joyzal, what does this mean?”
“She’s human. They do not mate like Xylans do. They can have many mates in one lifetime,” Joyzal growled, clearly angry at this thought.
“What? More than one mate?”
Oh fuck, not this again. “Humans marry. We can commit and have only one mate. But if the mate dies, or the mating turns wrong, we can have another mate. Also, we can test out many mates, um, before finding the right one.”
Melachine was quiet, her mouth open. Jacole had managed to shock her possible future mother-in-law. Great.
“Listen, it all worked out in the end though. I don’t mind that I’m here with Joyzal,” she told the both of them. “I’m happy that we’re spending time together and testing this mating thing.” How did she put this nicely in front of his mother a
nd not admit they were busy having ferocious jungle sex that would make the ladies at Cosmopolitan magazine blush? And that she loved every goddamn minute of time she’d spent with this woman’s son? “We’re getting to know each other.”
Melachine narrowed her eyes. “Is my son Joyzal your one true mate?”
Shit, shit, shit! Now she was being put on the spot. Jacole looked at Joyzal and then back at his mother. Both were staring at her, waiting for her answer. She swallowed. Yes, she could lie. That would be the easy thing to do in this situation, tell them what they both wanted to hear. But she wasn’t a liar, and she wouldn’t start now. She’d always been a big believer in telling the unvarnished truth in any situation. She felt she owed that to people. Honesty always came first, no matter how painful. She took a deep breath and admitted the fear that was darkening her heart. “I don’t know. Like I said, I’m happy to be here with Joyzal. I’m happy we’re spending time together. I don’t want that to stop. I’m just—” she forced herself to speak the truth, “—not sure if it’s forever.”
Joyzal stiffened. Pain flashed in his eyes.
She felt like crap. “We’ve only just met,” she answered softly.
Melachine whimpered. “Not sure?”
Joyzal strode toward the screen. “Mother, we will talk again later.”
“Joyzal, you must do your best to convince her—”
“I will,” he said, cutting her off with a swipe of his hand on the red circle next to the screen.
He strode forward with a determined look on his hard face. Oh hell. Jacole shuffled back a few steps and connected with the unforgiving wall of the bridge. Her seven-foot-tall, badass alien Bounty Hunter husband pressed his body fully against hers and planted his palms on the wall on either side of her head. Holy shit, he was imposing. Her heart beat furiously, like it was about to tear out of her chest, her breath rapid and shallow. He bent forward, his nose almost touching hers.
Joyzal's Prize (Alien Bounty Hunters Book 2) Page 6