Amorous Overnight

by Robin L. Rotham

  Maybe the difference was the plants and flowers. Or maybe the furniture was stuffed with potpourri instead of polyfill.

  Or maybe it was just the smell of power.

  But the most interesting thing in the room was the wall that appeared to be…moving.

  Shelley tipped her head to the side and wandered over for a closer look at the live seascape. Like the rest of the room, it was blue on blue, which was why she hadn’t noticed it right away. The gently swelling ocean waves were deep blue with delicate pale-blue crests where they broke gently on the beach. The cloudless sky was such a dark blue it was almost purple, and the setting sun—or was it rising?—was so white she thought it was the moon at first. But then she noticed two moons higher above it, one a crescent and the other almost half-full.

  It must be Garathan. Did he miss his home as much as she missed hers? She’d never thought of that before, that the mighty Garathani might get homesick. They were all so hard and inaccessible. Except Hastion, but he seemed like a breed apart from the others and always had.

  Curious, she reached out and touched the mural with a single finger, confirming her suspicion that it was a flare image. The picture distorted slightly where her fingertip came into contact with the warm, flexible surface. Must be nice. Maybe she could get one like that for her room, only with a glorious morning view of the Gore Range.

  Then again, maybe that would just make her even more homesick.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw movement and turned her head just in time to watch the minister’s ginger-furred chest and incredible washboard abs disappear under the silky, white, short-sleeved shirt he was pulling over his head. Down below, a pair of pearl-gray pants rode low on his narrow hips and his elegant feet were bare.

  A lust bomb detonated in her belly, sucking away her breath as it shot white-hot sparkles all over her body. Damnation, how could he possibly be sixty years old? Admittedly that was like thirty-five in human years, but still…holy shit. His body could have dominated any of the eye candy websites she and all her coworkers had drooled over every morning before their shifts. When she saw him earlier, fresh from his workout and almost naked, her mind had emptied of everything except the desire to lick off a bead of sweat rolling down those abs.

  “You wished to see me, Ms. Bonham,” he said as he reached up to pull his hair out of the back of his collar. It was wavy, as if it had been braided, and the ends were a darker red. Had she gotten him out of the shower?

  God, she could see him there now, soaping himself sensuously while water poured down his hard, naked body…

  She blinked. “Uh…yes, I—”

  “Please, be seated.” He gestured at the long couch against the wall.

  “Thank you.” Totally disconcerted, she sat at one end, perching on the edge of the seat so her feet still touched the floor.

  The minister smiled as he sat down in the other corner, leaving a good five feet between them. Half facing her, he leaned back with his legs crossed and his left arm stretched out along the back of the couch. The pose made the leg of his pants ride up, and Shelley was disturbed to see two faint sets of scars about three inches apart circling his bony ankle. There were similar scars around both wrists.

  The idea that he’d been forcibly restrained at some point bothered her more than she cared to think about. Who’d done that to him, and why?

  “Our furniture is no more made for you than yours is for me,” he said with a slight smile, as though he hadn’t noticed her frowning inspection of his scars.

  Resisting the urge to ask about them, Shelley smiled back. “When you were sitting in my father’s recliner, you reminded me of Goldilocks sitting in Baby Bear’s chair.”

  “And you look like Goldilocks on Papa Bear’s chair.”

  Something about the way he said that sent a warm, slow wave of arousal curling through her. Damn, if she was Goldilocks and he was Papa Bear, she’d skip the chair and go straight to his great big bed to wait for him. Naked.

  She blinked again. Down, girl!

  “I’m surprised you know that story, sir,” she said quickly. Jesus, her hormones had better straighten themselves out soon or she was liable to attack someone.

  “I enjoy learning about other cultures through their literature, and actually, a similar story has been handed down on Garathan for generations.”

  “Oh? What’s yours called?”

  “Roughly translated, ‘Ristaci and the Three TaRaiaks.’”

  “Interesting. Does she sit in their chairs, eat their porridge and sleep in their beds?”

  His smile grew distinctly sly. “No, but she tugs on their colloks.”

  Okay, either that was something dirty or he was teasing her. “I’m almost afraid to ask.”

  “Their hibernation sacks.”

  She laughed, blushing anyway. “That doesn’t sound very smart.”

  “Neither does falling asleep in a bear’s bed.”

  “Touché.”

  “So, Ms. Bonham, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?”

  Shelley hesitated. Suddenly her mission seemed very self-serving.

  Licking her lips, she said, “Well, I just wanted to— That is… Well, I don’t know if you realize how very much my mom and dad mean to me, sir. They were the best parents I could ever have asked for, and the idea that they were both dying…” She closed her eyes briefly and shuddered. “My God, the thought of it scares me right down to my bones.”

  “You needn’t thank me without ceasing,” he told her wryly. “It’s very clear how much you care for them.”

  “But I don’t just want to thank you,” she rushed ahead before he could shove her out the door. “I mean, when Tara said what she did about me wanting to get away from the Garathani, I felt like a complete jerk. You’ve been nothing but kind and helpful, not just to me and my family but to the entire planet, and it took me way too long to see that. Even after I saw, it took me way too long to admit it. So I want to apologize for acting like all of you were monsters for so long.”

  He gave one of his regal nods. “Although it’s unnecessary, your apology is accepted.”

  “And there’s one more thing,” she said, her heart pounding thickly now, “something I wanted to do this afternoon that I haven’t been able to get out of my mind, and I think I need to do it because just saying thank you doesn’t feel like enough. If you were anyone but the minister of the Garathani high council, I probably wouldn’t even ask—I’d just do it without thinking about it.”

  He tipped his head curiously.

  Taking a deep breath, she asked, “May I hug you?”

  For a moment he just looked at her, but before the awkwardness made her panic, he smiled again, slowly. “I suppose I can bear it if you can, tiny Terran.”

  She released the breath and smiled in return. “Okay then.”

  Standing, she closed the distance between them. He didn’t move at all, but left it entirely up to her, so she crawled up to kneel on the couch beside him. Then she slid her arms around his neck, trying in vain not to notice how insanely good he smelled as she hugged him with what she hoped was a proper balance of circumspection and sincerity.

  “Thank you,” she whispered against his hair.

  His arms closed around her waist and pulled her against him. “It was my pleasure, Ms. Bonham. And thank you. I’ve received far too few of these in my lifetime.”

  Oh hell, he just had to go and say that, didn’t he?

  Shelley hugged his neck tighter and then pulled back and kissed the jagged scar on his cheek for good measure. Quickly, so she didn’t give in to temptation and do something unforgivably stupid, like lick his delicious-smelling skin or slide her mouth down to suck his delicious-looking lips.

  His hold tightened too. “And I’ve definitely received far too few of those,” he rumbled in her ear. Nuzzled her ear.

  Wait, was he sniffing her?

  Heat rippled through her and she pulled back instinctively, but his arms kept her hips
firmly against his side, her stomach against his ribs. His expression had grown harsh, his gray eyes dark and intent under the auburn slashes of his brows. The abrupt change sent an intoxicating shot of adrenaline into her veins. Was he pissed off…or turned on?

  She licked her lips nervously and then gasped when he growled.

  At that moment, Hastion stumbled through the same door the minister had emerged from and Shelley’s eyes just about fell out of her head. His face was pale, his long brown hair ruffled and clumped with sweat, and his suit was hanging open while he tried to wrestle his arms into the inside-out sleeves—

  And damned if his magnificent cock wasn’t swinging from the wide-open crotch.

  She must have made some kind of noise because he froze, goggling first at her and then at the minister.

  “Shit!” Going bright red, he spun around to face away from her, his hands scrabbling frantically at his crotch.

  Without looking away from her, the minister murmured, “I believe I told you not to move, Ensign.”

  As his words sank in, the implications of the scene finally dawned on her, sucking every bit of air from of her lungs.

  Holy Mother of God, they were having sex!

  And she’d interrupted.

  Chapter Seven

  Peserin’s hell, could this evening get any worse?

  Hastion closed his eyes as the conflict inside him escalated to screaming intensity. So much for escaping—not that he’d had any idea where he was going. He’d thought the minister was in the shower. Why in the name of all the Powers hadn’t he said they were no longer alone in the suite? Why was he holding Shelley just minutes after their encounter? Why was she letting him?

  For that matter, what was she doing here in the first place?

  His hands shook and his stomach churned as he struggled with the tab of his suit, keeping his back to them. And yet his unprincipled cock swelled with excitement at having been on display for her. If he hadn’t known it before, this would have confirmed how deviant he truly was.

  “Oh my God, I’m—I’m so sorry,” Shelley stuttered. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I’ll just, uh…go.”

  Hastion went hot and cold with every awkward word that came out of her mouth. Shelley knew. She’d seen enough to draw exactly the correct conclusion.

  “You didn’t interrupt anything, Ms. Bonham,” the minister said easily. “You needn’t rush off.”

  Fuck you, sir.

  “Um, yeah,” she half laughed, clearly oblivious to Hastion’s raging turmoil. “Wow, yeah, I…really need. To go, that is. I mean, I still need to get in my meditation and yoga, and then get up early tomorrow and do it again before I run, so, um…I guess I’ve said what I came to say so I really should go. But thank you again, Minister. I appreciate everything you’ve done more than I can say.”

  “It was my pleasure.”

  “Okay, well good night then.” After a moment’s pause, she said, “Good night, Hastion.”

  He grimaced, still facing away from her. “Good night, Shelley.”

  When the quiet scrape of the door closing let him know she’d departed, Hastion cursed. “Bedamned suit!”

  Saying nothing, Cecine stepped in front of him and brushed his trembling hands aside.

  “I wish you had told me she was here, sir,” Hastion muttered, looking anywhere but up at him.

  “Forgive me for expecting my orders to be obeyed without question, Ensign. It’s an unfortunate habit of mine as minister of the high council.” Cecine yanked the tab up roughly and the closure caught a bit of the underside of Hastion’s cock. Though the pain was breathtaking, he would have slit his own throat before making a sound.

  “Thank you, sir.” Dismayed by the bitterness that crept into his tone, he added more genially as he turned away, “Enjoy the rest of your evening.”

  The minister held up a restraining hand. “Not so fast, Ensign.”

  Hastion sighed. Peserin, he was tired. His ass burned, his cock stung where it was caught, and his tailbone hurt where the minister’s spur had rammed it repeatedly. All he wanted now was to be alone. “Yes, sir?”

  “I should see to the wound on your spine before you flee.”

  A bilious mass of conflicting emotions surged into the back of his throat and he wished anew he were the sort of male who could answer such an insult with a hair-raising roar and a sound thrashing.

  Instead, he met the minister’s sardonic gaze head on. “It’s fine, sir. And I’m not fleeing. I was going to the training center for a hydration bottle. Will that be all?”

  “No, it will not.” It was Cecine’s turn to sigh as he scrubbed a palm over his face. “I find I must apologize again.”

  “For what?”

  “I was too rough.”

  Hastion shook his head. “No, sir. You warned me you would give me no quarter and I agreed to it.”

  “If I draw blood, it’s too rough,” Cecine said flatly.

  “If you say so, sir. May I go now? I’m tired and must bathe before I retire.”

  “I thought you were thirsty.”

  Hastion shrugged. “I’ll drink water from the shower.”

  “You haven’t eaten yet.”

  “I’m never hungry after I spar, sir.”

  The minister hesitated and then nodded. “I’ll see you at breakfast tomorrow then.”

  Hastion walked away without replying and entered his room, almost unbearably relieved to be alone.

  “I fucking give up,” he whispered. Stripping off his uniform, he dropped it in the sanitizer and then stepped into the shower.

  “Shower on full, overhead spray only.” When the water emerged instantly at the preset temperature, he doused his head and then ordered, “Raise water temperature ten degrees.”

  “Safety restrictions do not permit a water temperature of more than one hundred twelve—”

  “One hundred twelve is fine, Empran,” he said tiredly.

  When the tension in his muscles had finally melted away, he sank to the floor and sat with his eyes closed and arms clasped loosely around his drawn-up knees, wishing the rain of hot water could wash away the rest of him.

  Shelley scurried back to her quarters as fast as her chubby little legs would carry her. Once she was safely in her bedroom, she leaned back against the sponge-covered wall with her hand over her pounding heart.

  “Oh my fucking God,” she breathed, her face still burning with embarrassment. What an idiot! There she’d gone all thrills and chills thinking the minister might be putting the moves on her, and he’d just come from putting the moves on Hastion.

  Hastion!

  Jesus, why hadn’t she realized it sooner? Of course Hastion was gay—he was nice. And the minister was nice. And just like humans, all the nice aliens were either taken or gay. Or both.

  She whimpered at the memory of Hastion’s very impressive package dangling from his open uniform. She’d seen it before, up on stage at the mating demonstration, and she’d done her best to forget that he was twice as much man as she’d ever had in her bed. But there’d be no forgetting this sighting. Even half-hard, he was magnificent.

  And the minister…

  Holy crap! She’d already been eye-licking his delicious skin, sculpted chest and ripped alien abs, and when he stood up after their friendly little moment, the enormous tent in his pants had sent her temperature soaring. She’d had to clench her hands to keep from peeling them down so she could get a look at his mighty tent pole. Seeing him in nothing but the Garathani version of a Speedo earlier had jump-started her libido in a historic way, and being squeezed in his arms had sent electric currents of need from her sensitive breasts to the aching flesh between her legs.

  But knowing he was hiding freaking Cockzilla beneath his heavy robe…

  She shuddered. Had he gotten hard because of her, or because Hastion walked in?

  Duh, Hastion, of course—why would he get an erection over a short, fat mother of two when he had the epitome of masculine beauty waiting
in his bedroom? If she weren’t so envious, the thought of the two of them getting it on would have totally rocked her world.

  Shelley immediately thumped herself on the forehead. Fuck, fuck, fuck! She had no business getting hormonal over aliens, no matter how knuckle-bitingly gorgeous they were, and she certainly had no business being jealous.

  Just…why did they have to be so damn nice? Keeping her distance had been getting hard enough before the minister saved her parents’ lives, and now that she’d had a taste of him, all she wanted to do was lick him all over, and then lean down a little—because at her height, a little was all it would take—and suck his big, delicious cock. While alternately sucking Hastion’s big, delicious cock, porn-queen style.

  “Argh!” Shelley tore at her hair. She had to stop thinking like this or she’d go insane.

  And she had to do something about this whirlpool of sexual energy pulsing low in her belly, before she did something she’d regret, like beg one of them to let her suck his big, delicious cock and then fuck her into an altered state.

  Screw meditation and yoga. She needed to make herself come until she couldn’t come any more.

  Stripping off her clothes and dropping them on the floor, she climbed quickly onto the bunk and pulled the blanket up to her neck. Even if she weren’t so overweight, knowing the flare fields that served as mirrors and lights could be used for covert observation would have cured her of any desire to lounge around naked.

  Not that anybody had any reason to observe her, but why take the chance?

  “Empran, lights out, please.”

  The overhead flare immediately faded to black. Alone in the dark, Shelley sighed and, for the first time in over a year, slid her hand between her legs.

  Hoping to quiet his inner turmoil by covertly joining Shelley in her evening relaxation exercises, Cecine flared into her sleeping chamber and was surprised to find it completely dark. Had she retired? Surely not. He’d been watching her intently when the ensign appeared and seen the exact instant she grasped the situation between them. Her reaction had seemed rather conflicted—surprise, dismay, intrigue, embarrassment…and arousal. Definitely arousal. There’d been no mistaking the heat of it, either in her gaze or her scent. He found it difficult to believe she’d just run back to her room and gone to sleep. In fact, he’d been certain she might require more meditation than usual to calm herself.