by Celia Kyle
Keeping my mouth on her clit, I take one hand between her legs and caress her inner folds with two fingers. Carefully, I push them apart and ease my fingers in, my mind brimming with anticipation as I feel the tightness of her inner walls. I already believed she was the perfect specimen, a female unlike any I have ever been with, but I didn’t expect her to be this fucking perfect. To say that my expectations were blown out of the water would be putting it mildly.
I should have been expecting it.
She is, after all, my mate.
“I think that… I think I…” she stammers, but a moan stops her from finishing her sentence. Not that it matters. I know exactly what she’s trying to say. Eager to feel her explode against my mouth, I push my two fingers deep inside of her, curling them upward like a hook. Pressing hard, I keep flicking at her clit with my tongue in a savage manner, enjoying the way she thrusts upward and pushes her wetness against my mouth. “Oh, fuck!”
Hissing through her gritted teeth, she arches her back so suddenly I’m actually surprised her spine doesn’t snap. She keeps me trapped in place, ensuring my mouth goes nowhere, and I feel tiny spasms taking over her sweet wetness. Her bright voice floods the room once more, her moans turning into screams, and I savor the moment knowing I’ll never forget it. I’ve always enjoyed making women scream out in ecstasy, but nothing compares to how mind-blowing it feels when the woman you’re with is your mate. It heightens the experience in an unspeakable way, turning it into something so transcendental it’s almost impossible to describe. And the best part is...we’re only getting started.
“Where did you learn that?” she finally asks, peeling her fingers off my horns and collapsing on the mattress. “That was incredible.”
“The only incredible thing inside this room is you,” I throw back at her, pushing up to my knees. I take my shirt off, eager for more, and can’t stop a smile from spreading across my lips as she stares at my naked chest. Her eyes widen with fascination and, hesitantly, she reaches for me with one hand and presses it against my pecs. She feels the firmness of my muscles for a moment, and then her fingers travel down to my abs, the tips navigating the grooves and ridges of my golden flesh. She doesn’t stop there. Instead, she takes her hand even further down, spreading her fingers widely as she feels my two erections.
“It’s true,” she whispers softly, looking up at me with a fascinated expression. “Oh, Mother.”
“Are you scared?”
“Scared?” A grin takes over her face. “That’s not the word I’d use.”
With that, she moves fast.
Hooking her fingers on my pants, she pushes them down in a desperate manner, only stopping once I’m completely naked. My two hard cocks spring free to greet her, and she doesn’t wait before reacting. Grabbing my erections with both her hands, she keeps her eyes locked on mine as she flicks her wrists, her fingers traveling up and down my entire length.
“Fuck,” I say, gritting my teeth as she starts stroking me harder, her hands traveling over my cocks at the speed of light. Allowing myself to lose all control, I grab her by the wrists and push her down on the mattress, pinning her arms beside her. I follow after her, and she doesn’t hesitate before wrapping her legs around my waist.
Reaching down, I grab one of my cocks and angle it down so the tip is right against her entrance. As for the other, I lower my body so its shaft is pressing down on her clit. The combination seems to work, making Lamira exhale sharply as her expression changes into one of pure anticipation.
“You’re mine,” I tell her and, at the same time, I ease myself in, my thickness straining against her inner walls. I take my time with it, giving her body a chance to adjust to my size, and then hold my position once I’m fully inside of her. “I’ve wanted to do this since the first time I laid eyes on you, Lamira.”
I rest my forehead against hers, not moving, and look into her eyes. She holds my gaze for a couple of heartbeats, and then a sweet smile takes over her lips.
“We should’ve done this right then,” she chuckles softly, cupping my face with her hands. “But we’re here now. Aren’t we?”
She doesn’t give me enough time for a reply. Closing the distance between us, she brushes her lips against mine, our tongues dancing feverishly, and only then do I rock my hips. I start with a gentle and patient rhythm, almost as if I’m afraid of hurting her, but it doesn’t take long before my instincts get the best of me.
Succumbing to lust, I start giving her my all, thrusting so fast and hard I make her eyes roll. She matches my movements eagerly, our rhythm a feverish one, and it’s only a matter of time until we blend into one. My identity seems to fade, everything that I am melting into a stream of pure ecstasy, and the real world ceases to matter. Right now, I couldn’t care any less about my past, Solace and those behind it, and whatever else is going on in this damned galaxy. All that matters is that Lamira and I have become one.
It’s incredible… and different.
As a Kilgari, I was raised in a culture where women are at the center of the universe. You’re not expected to find the “one.” All mentions of a fated mate have been relegated to the annals of history because women and men aren’t supposed to form a single unit. Instead, women are supposed to take multiple husbands.
Fuck, just to think of that hurts.
I’ve never questioned any part of my culture before, but there’s no way in fucking hell I’d be able or willing to share Lamira. She is my mate, and that’s it. Just the thought of her with another man is enough to make me rage like a fucking maniac.
“I’m not gonna last,” she places her hands on my chest and digs her fingernails into my flesh. She does it hard enough to draw blood, but I barely register the pain. I just keep giving her all I have, pushing her toward the edge with each of my thrusts. It’s worth it.
When she finally explodes, it’s glorious.
She lets out a vicious scream, one violent enough to make my eardrums pop, and throws her head back as she does it. I place one hand around her neck, thrusting hard and deep, and grit my teeth as her inner walls close in on me. She becomes as tight as a vise, and that’s enough for me to be dragged after her and straight into a world of pure ecstasy.
We come at the same time, my seed spilling onto her belly and inside her pussy, and we remain locked in our embrace until that tidal wave of pleasure finally starts to recede. Breathless, I roll to the side and collapse beside her, breathing so hard my lungs feel like two overinflated balloons about to pop. Neither of us say a thing for a long time, exhaustion seeping into our bones while the warmth of our naked skin makes us feel mellow.
I’m first to break that silence.
“I don’t know if you’ve felt what I did, but—”
“I know what you’re going to say,” she cuts me short. “And I’ve felt it too.”
That catches me off guard.
“We’re mates,” I whisper, “which means that you’re mine, and I’m yours.”
“Yes.”
“As long as I’m breathing, I’ll take care of you.”
Gently, she kisses my lips and then lays her head on my chest. I hold her tightly, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest, and close my eyes. Inside me is a storm of happiness and excitement, one I never thought I’d experience. After so many years adrift in this galaxy, I’ve finally found my true north.
I found her.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Lamira
Grantian and I hold hands as we walk abreast down the burnished corridors of the stately Ancestral Queen. Those we pass in the halls either move to the side without comment or smile knowingly when they greet us.
I’m glad Grantian is accepting with the display of affection. After last night, it just doesn’t seem right not to celebrate our new union. Varia spoke to me of how profound her connection to Solair was, but I don’t think I could really appreciate it until it happened to me, too.
Upon awakening this morning—much closer to noon—we
discovered two things. One, Solair has already set course for Tartus and the Queen is in the midst of a superluminal jump. Two, sex makes both humans and Kilgari insatiably hungry.
We’re heading to the mess hall, hoping for a little early lunch. As we make our way there, we round a bend and nearly run right into Thrase.
She pauses, her gaze dropping down to our joined hands, and then sniffs as if it doesn’t matter and moves to the side to allow our egress.
But I hear her mutter on the way past. “About time.”
Grantian and I exchange glances and then share a chuckle.
“Was it that obvious?”
He smiles and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. “Apparently. It was always obvious to me.”
“You know what?” I stand on my tiptoes and just barely get enough elevation to kiss him on his cheek. “I think I knew, too. The first time I saw you something sort of clicked. Hope that doesn’t sound weird.”
“It doesn’t.”
“And I hope you’re okay with the hand holding. I don’t want you to think I’m being all clingy.”
Grantian chuckles and tugs me along. “I like it when you’re clingy. Just so long as you refrain from doing so during active combat.”
“I don’t think PDAs are much use in battle, Grantian.”
His brow furrows in confusion. “That did not translate into Galactic Standard.”
I slap my forehead in mock admonishment. “Sorry, it’s a Terran phrase. It stands for ‘public displays of affection.’ You’d be surprised how squeamish some men are about being seen doing stuff like this where people can see.”
He scoffs and shakes his horned head. “Then they are fools.”
“I always thought so. But you’re an ex-Hael Hound. No one is going to think you’re anything other than the manliest of men.”
“Damn right.”
We share a laugh and hook a left into the mess hall. A few tables are occupied, but I can’t tell if it’s leftovers from the breakfast crowd or just people having an early lunch. We move over to the counter where Jax whistles to himself while cleaning out a pot.
“Any chance we can get an early lunch, Jax?”
He smiles at us and hangs the pot on a hook near his stove. “You’re in luck. I’ve just come up with my take on a Terran classic—Beetle Nut squash soup.”
I arch an eyebrow and look up at him.
“You mean butternut squash, right?”
His eyes widen slightly and then he starts ladling out orange, lumpy morass into two bowls. “So anyway, let me know what you think.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Sure I did. I said, ‘You’re in luck. You can have an early lunch.’”
I decide to give up on getting a straight answer out of him and instead follow Grantian to a table near the corner. Rather than sitting across from him, as he clearly expected, I slide into the seat next to him until our hips are snugly touching.
The soup turns out to be delicious, even after I pick what looks an awful lot like an insectoid appendage out of my teeth. Does it taste like butternut squash? Not really, but it does have a rich flavor reminiscent of Terran lamb.
“So, once we reach Tartus, what does Solair intend to do?”
Grantian snaps his gaze over to me for a moment before he dunks a hard biscuit into his soup. “We’ve put plans in motion in case there’s a firefight, but we made those decisions before I spoke with Zarp. Now, I’m not certain the direct approach is the best way to proceed, particularly if the IHC is involved.”
“I see. Then what would be the best course of action, in your opinion?”
Grantian’s lips become a thin, tight line. “That’s none of your concern.”
“Oh, no you don’t.” I shake my head vehemently. “We’ve been together less than twenty-four hours. You’re not shutting me out already.”
Grantian sighs and munches on his biscuit. I give him time to gather his thoughts. I’m patient, sometimes.
“The best course of action would be espionage. Entering the slave markets with a willing volunteer from the Frontier crew posing as, er, forgive the term, but merchandise. No one will give a second glance to us if we appear to belong there.”
“That’s a good plan, Grantian.” He nods and offers me a silent toast with his coffee. “I’m a willing volunteer from the Frontier crew.”
Grantian spits his coffee out in alarm and then hastily grabs a napkin to mop up the resulting mess. “No, Lamira. Don’t do this to me. I beg you. I can’t bear the thought of putting you in harm’s way.”
“It’s my decision, not yours. And besides, I’ll have you to look out for me. You’re not going to let anything bad happen to your fated mate. Are you?” I bat my eyes at him, and Grantian’s face contorts with inner turmoil.
“I don’t—I would have to run it past the captain.”
“Oh please. Solair adores you. He’s likely to do whatever you suggest.”
Grantian’s lips stretch in a thin, tight smile. “I know better than to try and argue with you, Lamira. It appears my best bet to keep you safe is to help facilitate your involvement however possible.”
I do a little dance in my seat. “Thank you for not being a dick about it. Now, do you know what this means?”
“Ah—that we’ll be going on a sortie together?”
I blanch, and then cock my head to the side. “No, that’s not what I was getting at. We get to wear disguises.”
“You are far too enthused about this prospect.”
“Oh come on, it’ll be fun. We can dress you up in a shabby criminal outfit—”
“Shabby criminal outfit?”
“—and I’ll wear… I guess it doesn’t matter unless it shows off plenty of skin, right? Want to make sure the goods are on display.” I cup my breasts to make them dance, and Grantian looks pained.
“Please don’t jest about such things, Lamira. I don’t relish the prospect of men gazing upon you with lustful eyes.”
“I know, but it’s for a good cause.” I kiss him on the cheek. “Finish your soup, dear. It’s time to play dress up.”
Two hours later, after hashing plans out with Solair, we head back to Grantian’s quarters, first stopping off in the cargo hold and gathering up several bags of various garments and fabrics. I also grab my sewing kit from my old quarters. I think I’ll be sleeping with Grantian from now on, but I’m not sure what’s going to happen with his bunkmate. I suppose that’s a concern for another time.
Dressing Grantian is easy enough. We find an old brown leather Alliance pilot jacket that’s seen much better days but fits him well. The trousers I pick out for him are also leather, but done in black, and let’s just say they adhere to every hard, contoured knot of muscle on his legs. They also show off his considerable, two headed bulge, much to my delight and his chagrin.
“Maybe skip your shave in the morning and chew on a toothpick or something. I don’t know. You still come across as more military than scoundrel.”
“I’m doing all I can, Lamira.”
“I know—hey, I think I’ve got it figured out. It’s your posture.”
Grantian straightens his garments and stands up straighter. “My posture is impeccable.”
“Yeah, and that’s the problem. Criminals are looser, like they don’t follow anyone’s rules but their own. Try and relax.”
He does his best, but the results make me laugh.
“Oh, well. If I do my job right, no one will be looking at you much anyway.”
We go through about half the garments in the bag before we come up with a look that Grantian says is authentic, though I can tell he’s quite uncomfortable at just how revealing it really is.
My breasts are adorned with a metal brassiere whose tiny seashell-shaped cups barely cover my nipples. The thin chain holding the cups in place is almost invisible. I wear a diaphanous bit of scarlet fabric around my waist, with a triangle in front and a very narrow taper in back.
Grantian seem
s troubled and shakes his head. “No, this will never do.”
“But you said I looked authentic.”
“Yes, but I did not realize authentic would be so… so… exposed.”
“Would it help if I put on some underwear?” I look down at myself. “Every step I take I’m flashing the world what I’ve got.”
“Unfortunately, you cannot do so.” Grantian clears his throat, and has trouble meeting my gaze. “Slaves, particularly those that might be for sale, are not usually permitted garments with nether closures. Only a fool buys a slave sight unseen.”
“Oh.” I redden a little bit. “Well, I’ll take one for the team, then.”
For the rest of my costume, Grantian rigs up ornately carved brass manacles so I can free myself by pressing a hidden stud. Not that the two-and-a-half-foot long chain between them impedes me much, but it’s a sweet gesture on his part.
Then we work out some signals, both verbal and nonverbal, to communicate in case things go south. If I feel in danger, I’m supposed to tug at the collar on my neck. If Grantian wants me to get behind him, he’ll whistle a jaunty tune. There are others, of course, but I cut him off when we get to an even dozen. There’s only so much my head can hold at once.
We practice the signals, as well as him leading me on a leash. It’s all in fun, but kind of a turn-on as well.
Then the announcement comes over the comms from Solair.
We’ve arrived at Tartus.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Grantian
As the Ancestral Queen curves on a long arc toward the shabby and overcrowded airfield on Tartus, Lamira and I slip out of the cargo bay in one of our secondhand shuttles.
