Mrax

by Layla Nash

  Rowan gasped, freezing on top of him, her fingers splaying out on his chest to keep herself from sinking down and splitting herself in two.

  “Rowan, do not stop,” he growled, hips pushing up despite his injury and her efforts to hold herself above him.

  “Stay there!” she said, shimmying her hips and digging her nails into his scales. “I just need a second to…adjust.”

  The fury in his eyes receded and then his fingers supported her hips instead of trying to yank her down to impale her still more. Then his wicked thumb found her clit in a glancing caress that rippled through her core and allowed him to sink deeper.

  Rowan gasped. “That’s…that’s better.”

  And it was. She knew Mrax was well-endowed, but in this position he felt enormous. He filled her completely, stretching her and reaching so deep inside it verged on pain.

  But as he touched her, teased her, she relaxed and began to feel simply wonderful.

  Slowly, she rose up so that just the tip remained inside her. Mrax showed his teeth, biting his lip and grabbing her hips, but he let her lead and play.

  “Woman, you tease me,” he bit out.

  She sighed and her head tilted back as she rotated her hips and his thumb pressed harder. “Yep.”

  Rowan moved up and down his cock, slick with her excitement. Mrax’s body was so huge that each time he was fully seated inside her, her knees literally could not touch the deck. She was balanced on—and stuffed full of—his dick.

  She moved up and down, slowly, for what felt like hours, panting at the slow build of heat. Below her, Mrax was barely contained muscle and sexual fury. Finally, he could take it no longer. He grabbed her hips and moved her roughly back and forth, and Rowan shouted at the sudden, intense sensation.

  “That is better.” Mrax gave her a dark look and palmed one breast, teasing and pulling her nipple more roughly than he ever had before. His other hand rested on her left hip, moving her fast and hard, teaching her to ride him and take him deep.

  Rowan groaned. He was everywhere. Touching her clit, stroking her breasts, his cock so deep inside her she felt impaled in the best of ways—and his eyes—his eyes always watching her with reverence. With adoration.

  With something like lov—

  She couldn’t think about that. She couldn’t think about anything, because she’d begun to move her hips of her own accord and it was the best thing in the universe. Rowan had heard of the G-spot before, but she’d never actually used it. And finally it was being used, in the most wicked, rough, wonderful way possible.

  Every time she moved, backward or forward, up or down, Mrax’s massive cock pressed against that perfect space inside. And every time it did, a pulse of pleasure so extreme and wild erupted until all she could do was pant and move faster. She felt like she chased something. She felt like she chased what she had always wanted but had always been just out of reach.

  Moaning, she leaned forward, her hands splayed on his chest. Mrax moved against to meet her, rocking her so fast she was no longer in control. Or maybe she was—maybe her hips were moving at the speed of light, moving with him—chasing a new kind of pleasure.

  This wasn’t like when she came from his tongue or his hands. This building orgasm was deep inside of her. It was like fire, and each swift grind of her hips down onto Mrax stroked it, stoked it, made her burn and pant and scream.

  “Come with me,” Mrax growled, but it was she who was leading him. The orgasm ripped through her with the perfect beauty of an exploding star. But it didn’t stop. Mrax was coming, wildly grinding her hips down onto him, and with each thrust—with each of his shouts—she came, again and again and again.

  And then Mrax was sitting up, his hands in her hair, his lips against hers, and she laughed and cried and trembled, slowly coming down from such great, dizzying heights until she rested, her cheek pressed against his chest. He lowered her down to the bed, and she fell asleep to the twin drumbeats of his two hearts.

  Chapter 48

  Rowan

  Rowan still felt flushed and almost feverish after the long, sweaty exertion with Mrax. He had a smug look on his face as she took the pilot’s seat, and Rowan wondered if everyone else would know what they’d been doing on the long flight back to the rebel base. It wasn’t long until she realized she didn’t care. She and Mrax had something special and it didn’t make a damn difference what everyone else thought.

  The exhilaration of piloting the massive transporter almost matched the way Mrax’s smile made her heart trip and stutter. She definitely should have been in the pilot corps. Maybe it wasn’t too late and she could find someone to train her on the proper way to fly real ships, instead of the secondhand junkers she cobbled together. It went on the to-do list for later.

  It took some luck and a lot of prayer to land the massive transporter on the relatively cramped conditions of the rebel base; setting it down without destroying the fighters that landed around them like a flock of Earther pigeons was a trick that made her head ache. Mrax held his breath, even though he didn’t say anything. The silent support warmed her from the inside.

  She killed the engines and adjusted a few more settings to make the transporter and its bootleg weapons safe, then unstrapped her harness and wobbled upright on shaky legs. Rowan thought it was nerves, but it would have been the unfamiliar workout of riding Mrax until all of her collapsed. Her face burned at the memory and she paused before deploying the ramp.

  Mrax stood behind her and held her waist, kissing the side of her neck before murmuring, “As soon as I get you back to the Galaxos, I’m going to rip those clothes off you and worship every inch of your body.”

  Rowan laughed in surprise and anticipation. It had been enough of a trick to get back into the clothes they’d abandoned so quickly. She shivered as they edged down the ramp and into the arrival bay. A strange sound rose up all around them, like rain on the tin roof at the farm, and she looked around in alarm. Another attack? Meteoric hail? And then she froze at the end of the ramp as crowds of rebels emerged from around the other ships, applauding.

  Applauding? Rowan looked around, searching for what they could possibly be that excited about, and found Mrax applauding as well. He grinned and inclined his head to her, his right fist held over his hearts, and he stood back so Rowan faced the crowds on her own. Instead of retreating, the crowds roared louder, stomping their feet and shouting in dozens of languages. Her cheeks burned and she turned to shout at Mrax, “What’s going on?”

  “You saved the rebellion,” Mrax said, shouting back to be heard over the noise. “That is worth celebrating.”

  “But I didn’t—”

  “You saved the rebellion,” he repeated. He stepped forward just long enough to kiss her, then stood back to join the crowd that surrounded the transporter.

  The rest of the Galaxos crew were also there, whooping and hollering, and Rowan’s throat closed as she debated running away and hiding on the transporter forever. She could probably get it started and back into space by herself. She never liked the spotlight and being the center of attention, but there was no escaping the entire population of the rebel base.

  Jess jogged up and gave her a hug. “That was awesome.”

  Rowan laughed and tried to duck behind Jess, but it didn’t last long. Mrax caught Rowan around the waist and held her up, putting her on his shoulders, and moved into the crowd as Rowan held on to his hair so she didn’t pitch over backward. With his strong hands holding onto her and the comforting warmth of his scales against her, the fear of facing so many rebels melted enough that she could smile and wave. She still wanted to hide somewhere safe and maybe celebrate with just her friends, but the rebels’ excitement was contagious.

  She lifted her arms in the air and laughed as Mrax spun her around. She hadn’t saved the rebellion by herself, that was for damn sure, and there were hard days ahead. The Alliance wouldn’t take the theft of so many ships and such advanced technology lightly, and the Dablonians would proba
bly take a bounty out against them. A bounty at the very least; she’d have to ask Jess if there were worse options for the Dablonians.

  But for at least a short time... They would celebrate their successes and each other. Rowan held on to Mrax and high-fived Jess and Isla and Maisy and Griggs and all of the Earthers who’d come from the Argo. They’d survived so much together. She couldn’t wait to see what adventures still lay ahead of them.

  Chapter 49

  Epilogue

  Rowan leaned over her workbench, frowning as she bent another sheet of high-strength alloy, and ignored the sound of the doors whooshing open. People still stopped by her lab frequently, even though it had been a few weeks since she brought the transporter back. If she acknowledged everyone who came to find her, she’d never get any work done. She’d found the best defense was to pretend to be absorbed in her work.

  Which normally she was.

  It took longer than she wanted to create and then deploy the shield arrays to most of the rebellion’s fighter craft. She modified each one that returned, directing the team of engineers and weaponeers that the rebellion’s leadership put at her disposal, and continued to work on arming the fleet of transporters that carried supplies and ships to the various bases in that quadrant.

  The intruder walked closer. She still didn’t move, because she knew in a flash who it was. Rowan smiled and pretended to keep her attention on her work. He would lose all control when he saw what she worked on, since it had happened before—a lot. Ever since they returned, Mrax dragged her off to their shared quarters at least once a day, which made getting anything at all done something of a problem. Especially since she blushed crimson every time Mrax walked her back to the lab and someone saw them together and knew exactly what they’d been up to.

  Jess gave her a hard time but still pulled Rowan into a girls’ night with the rest of the crew. She spent the whole night scandalized by what the other women disclosed about sleeping with their mates, though Violet rolled her eyes and muttered about falling for barbarians. But it still gave Rowan ideas for things to try with Mrax—and he loved every second of it. He encouraged her to have girls’ nights more often, then kept her up for three days straight with mating as she experimented with everything she’d learned. Even the things she didn’t believe were anatomically possible or went against the laws of physics.

  Rowan jumped as Mrax’s arms slid around her from behind and he started nibbling on her shoulder. “We were supposed to eat lunch an hour ago.”

  She smiled and kept tweaking the metal. “I know what ‘eating lunch’ is code for. You wouldn’t let me leave for at least two hours.”

  “It has been too long since I had you,” he muttered. His scales rattled and she could feel his interest as he held her closer.

  “This morning is not too long,” she said. But her whole body flushed with excitement. She couldn’t get enough of him. It was like she needed to make up for all the sex she’d missed out on earlier in her life. “Besides, I have work to do.”

  Mrax finally saw the metal pieces and started growling. “More scales.”

  “Mmm,” she said. Rowan wormed free, knowing it would just get him more excited, and held the small pieces of metal up to his shoulder. She deliberately stroked the bare patch of skin, knowing what it did to him, and was rewarded with more growling and tension across his back and shoulders. “This one should be impervious to lasers. I think. After we test it, I can make you a vest or—”

  He turned and caught her waist, hiking her up to sit on the lab bench, and stood between her knees. Mrax dragged her closer and started to pull at her trousers. “How should we test it?”

  “Well, I have some lasers...” She lost the train of thought as his mouth found her throat and she threaded her hands into his hair. “In the back. We could...”

  Mrax grunted and then his trousers were gone, too. Rowan shifted around until nothing stood between them. He squeezed her ass until she gasped and rocked forward, and then he buried himself inside her so hard and fast her whole body reacted.

  Rowan’s head tilted back as Mrax growled and nipped at her earlobe, listing all the things he planned to do to her, and she held on for dear life as he pulled her into each of his thrusts.

  She’d never imagined being so happy—her own lab to work on at the rebel base, a smaller lab on the transporter they flew alongside the Galaxos, and a mate who took care of her and protected her and couldn’t seem to get enough of her. Rowan closed her eyes and lost herself in the sensation of Mrax’s body against hers. They’d leave the base again in a few days, heading to the farthest reaches of the rebels’ control, and deploy the shields and advanced weapons to help the rest of the rebellion. Plenty of engineering challenges waited at each base and the journey in between.

  Mrax ground himself against her and Rowan held on to him tighter. She’d have endless time with him as they took the transporter out into deep space—endless time to fiddle with the prototype scales, and endless time to see how far she could push his endurance and her own imagination. Rowan grinned and deliberately stroked his spikes until Mrax lost all control.

  She couldn’t wait.

  Thanks for reading! We hope you enjoyed the Galaxos crew’s adventures! Leave a review to let us know what you think :)

  Juno and Layla are already working on the Sraibur crew’s books, so stand by for some piratical exploits in 2019… Sign up here to be notified when Faros finally finds his mate!

  But if you need something to read right now, check out this sneak peek from Layla’s complete paranormal romance series, City Shifters: the Pride.

  Sneak Peek

  Thrill of the Chase

  The kitchen was slammed for dinner, despite having only ten tables, and as my sous chef scrambled to plate dishes before anything cooled, I faced off with the manager through the door of his office. “We’re out of tuna. There were at least twenty steaks in the cooler yesterday, and now there’s nothing. What the hell happened, Joey?”

  He leaned his chair back, the squeak grating on my ears even with the din of the kitchen in the background. “I’m sure you miscounted.”

  “Fuck you, I can count.” I slammed my fist into the door jamb. “I cannot run this kitchen if my inventory disappears whenever one of your shitbag friends shows up.”

  “Slow your roll, sweetheart.” He got up, eyes narrowed, and tried to loom over me. His five foot six was no match for my five ten, though, and I folded my arms over my chest. It also helped that I had a scary large butcher knife in my hand. The manager glanced behind me, then raised an eyebrow. “Don’t concern yourself with this fictional tuna. My guy will be here in a couple days with fresh. Go take care of your own business.”

  My teeth ground until pain spiked in my temples. “I swear to God, Joey, if this doesn’t stop, I’m quitting. I’ll walk the fuck away.”

  “Go ahead and try.” His dark eyes studied me, his voice low and tense. “See how far Bob lets you run. Just remember where you started, sweetheart.” He reached out, trailing his knuckles across my cheek, and I jerked back.

  “If you ever touch me again,” I said, butcher knife held even with his chin. “I will gut you like the swine you are. I butchered a whole cow in school, Joey. You’re not even a challenge.”

  We faced off, neither of us looking away. I wondered if I would have to kick him in the junk to get him to back down, but instead my sous chef, Jake, called from behind me. “Chef, get your ass back in here, we need a hand with the special.”

  I scowled at the manager, “Get better vendors, for fuck’s sake, all of your friends have shitty product,” and turned to storm back into the kitchen.

  Jake took one look at my face and directed me to where one of the line cooks tenderized the steaks, so I pounded my rage out on the beef with a meat hammer. It didn’t help much, except when I imagined Joey’s ugly, narrow face under the spikes. I’d almost worked off the fury at the missing tuna and Joey’s casual disregard for my menu planning when one
of the waiters crept into the kitchen.

  He pitched his voice over the hiss and pop of the sauté pans. “Chef? A guest asked to speak with you.”

  “Which guest?”

  “The one who sent back his steak.”

  My lip curled in disgust. He sent back a perfectly prepared filet and claimed I did not know medium rare. The steak was perfect — I’d inspected it myself before it went out. I waved my towel at the server and took over preparing the hollandaise from the young saucier, not wanting to end up with scrambled eggs. “I do not have time to listen to his apology.”

  “Chef, he wanted to send it back again.”

  I dropped the bowl and hollandaise splattered across my apron and the rest of the workstation. “Again? I prepared that steak myself.”

  The waiter offered only an expressive shrug, taking no responsibility for the man’s lack of taste. I gritted my teeth; no one ever said customers would take up this much time for a head chef. On a normal night, I probably could have pretended and listened to the man’s complaint without wanting to snap my towel in his face, but after the confrontation with Joey... The towel twisted in my hands. I didn’t like people. That was why I worked with food.

  Jake wiped up the spilled sauce as he said under his breath, “Don’t go out there unless you can be civil. We need every paying customer.”

  “That steak was perfect.”

  Jake sighed. “We just got the lights turned back on. Is it worth it?”

  “This is my kitchen,” I said, taking a step back as anger bubbled up still more. It was bad enough I had to deal with chauvinist pigs in every kitchen as I worked my way up, and that I had to fight to be taken seriously by my vendors and my staff and the competition up and down this trendy street. Even worse that Joey sold my inventory out from under me whenever he wanted. Now some jackass who wanted to eat my food insulted me in front of my entire kitchen and the other guests. “I’m supposed to send out another steak?”