My AlienThreesome

by Amy Redwood

  So I let them trick me out until I couldn’t recognize myself in the mirror anymore. I looked like a girl, complete with a long, flowing dress and high heels. If any of my pilot collegues saw me like this, they’d die laughing. I started to wrap my belt holding my phaser around my waist but was given another lecture about “tradition”. Apparently, it wasn’t okay to bring weapons to a wedding party.

  There was a knock at the door and the younger women around me started giggling again.

  “Should I get that?” I asked.

  “Tradition,” the elderly woman said, nodding her head.

  I threw open the door, hoping it would be Jana.

  “Oh,” I said, taking in the Dezrian male standing there. He gave me a grin, sharp canines showing, dark eyes sparkling. “Oh,” I said again, blushing because this male was so damn easy on the eyes, and the giggling behind me proved that the other women thought so as well.

  “This is Slyte,” the elderly woman said, stepping next to me and giving me a push against the small of my back. “Go now.”

  “Okay,” I said, grinning, “but only because it’s tradition.” Despite the long trip from Earth to Dezra, I was wide-awake and a rush of adrenaline surged through my blood. Easy to guess why I was so excited. I was one of the first human visitors on this planet.

  But the Dezrian bowing to me while locking eyes with me was an even bigger kick.

  * * * * *

  Slyte still eyed me with dark, hot eyes and hand-fed me fruit dripping with sticky juice. And he had done so tirelessly for at least the last hour.

  I couldn’t complain.

  Who knew what his official role was though. He was either my protector or a guard to make sure I kept my human toes in line. I’d probably never know.

  “You don’t talk much, do you?” I asked him, but it was a rhetorical question.

  He hadn’t said a word throughout the evening, not that it bothered me. I fully intended to take a big bite out of him later. He was all coppery skin and bulky muscles. It had been too long since I’d taken a bite out of anyone.

  Screw the bruises on my heart, they’d heal some day.

  I closed my eyes and listened to the voices all around me. The Dezrian language sounded brusque if melodious, especially when hundreds of wedding guests chattered all at once. Due to some local tradition, Jana wasn’t attending the festivities, but I’d been told I’d see her tomorrow. So, I was the odd one out at this party—pale, short, human—but I didn’t feel awkward, thanks to Slyte. I tipped my head back, stared up at the giant transparent dome, thankful for the shield it provided against the sun’s rays. But daylight had long faded anyway, the dome a dark tint of blue.

  “Fancy a tour of my space glider?” I sought his gaze and winked, seeking nothing more than mutual pleasure—love need not apply.

  A soft, cool breeze caressed my forehead, and there was the faintest noise inside my head but no actual words. So, the rumors that some Dezrians were able to communicate with their thoughts were probably true, but even so, my brain was deaf.

  “Sorry, it’s not working on me,” I said. “But we’ll get along just as fine.”

  He flashed me a wicked smile, making me certain that he sensed where my intentions lay. Maybe he was an empath. Or lust was written too plainly on my face. But before I tried my hand at seducing an alien, a sip of liquid courage wouldn’t hurt. Reaching to my right, I grasped one of the many long-stemmed glasses that were arranged in a neat circle on top of the table.

  I raised my glass. “To a world without rules, the vastness of space and to your hard body.” Chiding myself for being a sexist, I took a sip.

  It ran smoothly down my throat, oily in texture, definitely not the light and bubbly mixture I’d expected. A piquant, peppery essence coated my tongue. I swirled the drink around in the glass. There was a fine shimmer to the clear liquid as if it were dusted with glitter. If I were a romantic, I’d have called it Starlight. I lifted the drink to knock back the rest and drank deeply.

  Someone hit the glass out of my hands. “That stuff isn’t good for you, Kyra.”

  My heart stopped, stuttered and then raced. Garrett. What on earth was he doing on Dezra? My vision wavered suddenly, and I grasped the edge of the table for a hold. I’d managed to down half the drink and it burned its way down my throat, hitting my stomach. It was as if fire spread through me, radiating in pulsing heat waves. I looked at the broken shards of glass on the floor before I lifted my head.

  My breath hitched as I met the gaze of my former business partner. He hadn’t changed much. Tall with a set of wide shoulders, his nose slightly crooked, matching his personality. If he had smiled, I’d have seen the dimple in his cheek. His dark hair was shorter, his face narrower and he needed a shave. He looked hardened, as if carved from iron. Except for his skin. He’d always had this golden glow, coupled with a certain air, a certain charm.

  I’d fallen for that charm, for that dimpled smile, for the bad-boy crooked nose. Fallen right into that narrow, single bed with him that night.

  “How are you?” Garrett asked, his voice gentle.

  “How I am,” I repeated quietly, unable to answer. I wanted to ask him why he’d left me, why he’d just disappeared after we spent the night together, but my throat was too tight.

  “Kyra, do you feel sick? Answer me.”

  “’Course I’m not feeling sick,” I said, which was a lie. I felt sick to my stomach.

  He gave a sigh, as if my answer had been important. “Could we talk somewhere alone?”

  Before I could reply, pain seared through my left hand. I winced, dragged my fingernails across an itch on my wrist. My veins stood out oddly, as if my blood was too thick. A sliver of heat shot into my core, drawing a yelp from me.

  I tugged at my dress, knowing that this wasn’t the right place to strip naked, but couldn’t stop myself. Being naked seemed so called for. My hands flew of their own accord between my legs and bunched the fabric there. When my knuckles rasped across my mound, I inhaled sharply. My body ached with a deep desire only a male could satisfy.

  That drink…

  I froze, realizing that I was having an alien reaction to the ingredients of Starlight.

  Garrett cursed—proving he knew a thing or two about what was happening to me—and held out his hand. “Let me take care of you.”

  I shook my head no so hard it sent my hair flying. He’d already bruised my heart once and only a fool would allow him to do so again. I looked at Slyte, focusing. Big, hard, silent. Damn, yes. I wanted him, needed sex. Now.

  Garrett’s dark eyes locked on to mine, held me captive, threw me for a loop. By the stars, I wanted him too.

  I was so fucked.

  I reached across the table, grabbed Slyte’s hand. “Get me out of here and into your room. Right now.”

  Since he didn’t seem inclined to honor my admittingly forward request, I climbed with my knees on the table, crossed over to his side to give him a better idea about what I wanted from him. He exclaimed something in Dezrian, probably voicing his astonishment that I had climbed into his lap.

  Twining my arms around his neck, I pressed against all that hardness, inhaling the unfamiliar but irresistible scent of his skin. My entire body hurt with an aching emptiness. I’d give him anything if he would thrust his cock into my pussy and make it all better. I rocked my hips, feeling how his arms closed around me. It was wonderful to be touched and—

  Slyte rose from his seat, with me clinging to him as if he were my source of oxygen. He forced me gently back on my own two feet. His brows were drawn together as if he couldn’t figure out my crazed behavior—so much for being an empath.

  “He doesn’t know that the drink affects your body that severely,” Garrett said softly from somewhere behind my back. “Come to me, Chiara. I’ll take care that no one takes advantage of you.”

  I’d heard everything he’d said, but there was one word that gnawed at my brain. Chiara. I pressed my eyes shut but couldn’t shut ou
t the memories. He’d called me that name before, whispered it lovingly in my ear, and just like then, my flesh pebbled in response and my insides turned to a tight ball.

  And to my absolute horror, tears pricked at the back of my eyes. I swallowed the hurt, the tightness in my throat. I’d stripped everything for him—my clothes, my pride, my soul. And I couldn’t undo the night we’d spent together, I couldn’t.

  I heard Garrett talking, but not to me and not in a language I understood. I made myself look at him, saw him standing next to Slyte, a smidge shorter than the towering Dezrian, and Garrett’s hand rested on his shoulder as if they were best friends.

  “You speak Dezrian?” I asked, surprise coloring my words.

  Garrett ignored my outburst, but both males turned to me, their gazes running over me from my feet up to the roots of my hair. I feared both knew how damp my panties were, how sweaty my thighs. Slyte’s forehead was creased with lines. They looked at me as if they expected me to sprout wings any second.

  There was a hard beat, a pulse within me. As if I’d swallowed a greasy engine that roared its way through my bloodstream. And when I gazed into Garrett’s eyes, he fueled that engine with nitro. Ignited it too.

  Wrapping my arms around my middle, I shuddered, heat flaring up inside my chest. The hard, hot pulse kept thumping and thumping, as if my heart were growing bigger, stronger. Inside me, a feeling like an implosion tore me apart. I yelled out, more in panic than pain—even though it did hurt. My legs gave way from under me.

  When I moved experimentally—why was I lying on the floor?—my thighs rubbed together, creating bliss. I held my breath, but the pain remained gone. In its wake, a searing need for release was pooling between my legs. My skin tingled and I itched with the desire to be touched.

  I arched up, heard myself begging, pleading for sex. When someone stroked my cheek, the touch raced up my spine. The soft contact had to be the best foreplay I’d ever received.

  And then I was hauled up, and if I wasn’t mistaken, thrown over a shoulder. To keep me there, a large hand settled on my ass. The sensual overload made me cry out. Unbidden, images sprang up in my mind. Images of giving and taking, lips parting, muscles flexing, of flesh against flesh, and the taste of skin, the spurt of semen on my tongue.

  Someone was carrying me—Slyte?—and the rocking motion was nothing less than cruelty. With each step, my breasts beneath my dress brushed against a muscled back. Why couldn’t he take off my dress and soothe my tender nipples with a kiss and a lick? And there was still his hand on my ass, all five fingers giving me a slight squeeze. I stifled a groan and my mind jumped to an image of a cock thrusting deep into my pussy. I came hard, my orgasm so intense a flash of brilliant white lit up behind my eyelids before my world went black.

  * * * * *

  I woke to the feeling of fingers moving between my legs. Keeping my eyes shut, I became aware of three things simultaneously. Slyte had taken the hint and gotten me somewhere private—the quiet told me I was alone with him. I was lying on top of a bed, the softness of a mattress and sheets beneath my butt a dead giveaway. And I wasn’t wearing my dress anymore.

  A sigh escaped me at the pleasure of being naked, even if Slyte’s gentle touch was more torture than relief. His fingers were cool and slippery, as if he were using some kind of massage oil that had a cooling effect. He massaged my inner thigh, occasionally brushing against my pussy with the edge of his hand. I moved my hips with the rhythm of his touch, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy my need.

  As if sensing my frustration, he touched my clit with the rough pad of his finger, sending more than just a sliver of awareness through my center. Another firework of stars erupted behind my closed eyes. I bucked against his hand and climaxed helplessly in short, violent bursts.

  I felt greedy and ungrateful because the climax left me wanting. I moved my hips but found nothing to grind against. Trying to reach with my hand between my legs to pleasure myself, I bit back a cry of surprise.

  Slyte had tied me spread eagle to the bed.

  I’d been too distracted with getting off that this tiny detail had escaped me. How stupid could I be? How crazed and out of my mind for sex that I hadn’t noticed someone tying me up? Mumbling a curse, I craned my neck. The room was dimly lit, but I saw enough to know that I’d never get the ropes off myself. But how was I to touch myself? I needed to slip my fingers inside my pussy. It would feel so good.

  “Slyte,” I said, “you’d better untie me this second.”

  “We thought it better to protect you from yourself.” Garrett’s face entered my vision, an unseen light source creating shadows and odd angles on his face.

  I stared up at him, struggling to find an appropriate reply. “Tell me it wasn’t your hand between my legs.”

  “Not my hand.” His expression was one of concern, amusement and lust. “I thought you might disapprove. I was only watching.”

  Only watching—dirtier words were never spoken. Lifting my head, I spotted Slyte at the end of the bed, his shirt off to reveal a broad, smooth chest. His coppery skin looked absolutely lickable. As our eyes locked, he wrapped his hand around my foot, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I couldn’t fail to notice that his fingers were wet from my juices. Or, I hastily adjusted my mental image, from the massage oil.

  Drawing in a shaky breath, I tried to gather my wits. It shouldn’t be that hard, keeping a straight thought, but it was. Hard to hold on to a thought that didn’t involve some form of sexual activity. I was naked, tied to a bedframe and there were two gorgeous males at my side… Garrett was talking to me, pulling me out of my red-hot thoughts of them touching and kissing me all over.

  “Judging from the frown on your forehead,” Garrett said, “I gather you’re trying to figure out what happened.”

  “The drink…” I said, my mind hazy, my hips rotating in small circles as if they had a will of their own. Damn, I wanted nothing more than a good, no-nonsense fuck, why was I talking about a drink? My gaze fixed on Slyte at the end of the bed.

  Why was he half-naked? I wanted to see him stripped of all clothes, wanted his cock down my throat, wanted to feel him buried deep within me. I let out a series of curses as I noticed that my thoughts had drifted to red-hot again. “Where am I?”

  “Well, you’re in Slyte’s bed, as you’d wanted to be.”

  “Tell him to make me come again.”

  “No.”

  “You do it. Fuck me.” I almost choked on my words. Had I said that out loud? Was I insane? Then I remembered the drink’s alien effect on my body and relaxed. Yes, I wasn’t sane, so I shouldn’t be too hard on myself.

  “Tempting, sweetheart. But I think we should wait—”

  “Forget it,” I said quickly. “Take off the restraints.” My clit was begging to be touched, and if both men wouldn’t take care of me, I would make myself come until I was soothed and fully sated.

  Then it hit me.

  Garrett was in the same room with me. And I was naked, bound and so desperate for sex I was panting. My first reflex was to cover myself, my second to pull him close. Both reflexes were rendered useless by a couple inches of rope.

  “Get the fuck out of here,” I yelled, trying to arch away from the bed. I didn’t come far. I wondered if my pussy muscles would soon stop working. I hoped so. The constant clench and unclench drove me to distraction.

  “I’m not leaving your side until you are better,” Garrett said, settling next to me on the bed, gifting me with that dimpled smile I loved.

  I sure wasn’t well. Why Garrett cared though, I had no idea. His presence made my skin tingle, but I had no business lusting after him.

  “I wouldn’t know why you’d want to stay,” I scoffed. “You’re good at leaving me.”

  I didn’t expect that my words would make an impact on him, but there it was, the ghost of a flinch running over his features, as if I had hurt his feelings. He rubbed his forehead, a tired gesture that had me wondering what went on in his head.
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br />   “I’m hoping to get a chance to talk to you,” he said, “but right now you’re not up to it.”

  “Garrett, just leave,” I said, sounding more vulnerable than I wished for.

  His eyes lit up as if he had picked up on my weakness. “Now, you don’t want to lose your interpreter, do you?”

  “What do I need a translator for? Slyte knows what I want from him,” I said, trying to remain calm.

  It wasn’t as if Garrett hadn’t seen me naked before, but still. Flustered, I sought Slyte’s calm gaze. As hungry for sex as I was, I wasn’t so starved yet that I would beg Garrett to fuck me. Wait, I had already done that. And he hadn’t jumped at the chance. How flattering.

  Slyte gave me a quick smile and a gentle breeze touched my face, creating a faint roar in my mind. I still didn’t understand him, but I appreciated his gesture. He grasped my foot tighter, his fingers rubbing up and down my heel as if he was trying to console me. His touch should have tickled, but instead it sent tingles of sensation up my legs. He took something off a table—a small glass bottle—and poured more of that oil into the palm of his hand. I tipped my head back to enjoy the sudden slick glide of his hands. I let out a whimper as he moved up to my calf, his fingers gently kneading.

  Garrett cleared his throat. “I’ve heard the bride is from Earth. Friend of yours?”

  I nodded, taking well-measured breaths. Slyte was concentrating on oiling up my other leg, starting at my feet, and his attention was killing me. “Yes, I flew her to her wedding.”

  “The wedding, yes,” he said, sounding less than enthusiastic. “I all but crashed my ship here three days ago. I’m still trying to find someone to repair it.”