Matched and Mated: Interstellar Brides® Program - Book 16

by Goodwin, Grace

  “Brax’s cock is still hard. He still wants you. Wherever shall he put his cock?” I asked.

  She dripped all over me at those words, her inner walls clenching. Yes, I’d been right.

  My hand on her hip slid to her ass, then my fingers dipped into the crack, found her snug back entrance.

  I hadn’t used the ATB with her. Yesterday, my cock had been enough. I’d planned to train her ass using the Prillon mating box meant for new brides, specifically those from other planets. But I somehow knew that wasn’t necessary.

  “She likes ass play,” Brax said.

  I looked over Miranda’s bare shoulder to the Trion, who was tucking his cock back into his pants.

  “Keep that out. She wants it.”

  I flicked my gaze to Miranda, saw the truth on her face.

  “Here.”

  I pressed my thumb to her ass, circled, then slid it into her. Her ass accepted it easily and she gasped, wiggled on my lap.

  I let her fuck herself on me, which only worked my thumb into her even deeper.

  I widened my knees until she was opened too. Her feet didn’t touch the floor and she had no balance, giving her no choice but to hold on to my shoulders.

  “You need two males in you at once, don’t you, mate?” I asked.

  She looked to me. Nodded. She couldn’t lie. Not only because of the collars, but because of the match.

  “You are a Prillon bride. You wouldn’t have been matched to me otherwise.”

  I slipped my thumb free and she moaned.

  “Lube, in the drawer beside the bed.”

  Brax went where I told him, found the vial and liberally coated his cock. Once done, he brought the vial with him and knelt behind Miranda. His cock was hard even after fucking her. I understood this, for mine hadn’t gone down since she’d transported to the battleship.

  “Ready, mate?”

  She nodded and Brax reached about and cupped her breasts, holding her in place for his entry. I knew the second he pushed in, breached that tight hole. I felt him through the thin membrane that separated us. Felt it through the collars. Saw the intensity of it flare in her eyes.

  “Trist,” she groaned. Writhed, although there was nowhere for her to go.

  I felt her pleasure, her heat. With my hands on her hips, I lifted her almost completely off my cock. I’d barely moved since she first settled upon me and I was desperate for the slide, the friction.

  Brax slid out the same amount, then I lowered her down. Double fucked, double filled.

  She let her head fall back as the two of us took her. The need built, swirled. Our breaths mingled, our skin slick with sweat. We felt complete, whole, with her between us. I was going to come, I couldn’t hold back much longer, but she would find her pleasure again first.

  And so I did the one thing I knew would set her off, the one thing I never expected to do. I reached up, opened both of her nipple clamps at the same time.

  Her eyes flared as the blood rushed back to the tender tips. I felt the flood of pain, the flush of heat, the gush of wetness and heard her scream of pleasure.

  It was too much, too great to resist and I followed her over. Brax stiffened and growled as his cock pulsed to fill her ass.

  I sensed her contentment settled between me and Brax. He could give her pleasure, that was not in question.

  But everything else? Time would tell. Until then, I’d let my sleeping mate rest, for I had plans for her.

  12

  Brax, Battlegroup Zakar, Support Ship Prima-Nova, Cafeteria – Three days later

  Miranda was laughing with a group of four Prillon children, working together to make some kind of food, and not with the S-Gen machine. The youngest, a small female, was perhaps six years old. The eldest a boy of eleven or twelve. He had an ion blaster strapped to his thigh, which I kept my mouth shut about. I didn’t know if it was armed or if it were a training pistol used to teach a child responsibility and proper care of such a weapon and to ensure he became accustomed to constantly wearing one.

  On Trion, we did not arm children. This was a war zone though, and he was Prillon, as tall as Miranda already, even at his young age. He appeared to be enjoying the extra attention from the new Lady Treval as much as the rest of them. I didn’t blame the boy, for I was enamored by her as well.

  I had no idea how much honor, adoration and responsibility the mates of these warriors were blessed with upon their arrival in space. It was a dangerous place filled with constant tension, possible threat, imminent battles. Potential death. Commander Zakar himself had warned me from disrespecting any lady in the battlegroup at peril of my life. They not only gave of themselves to their mates—and for a Prillon match she had to contend with two alpha, bossy males—but to the people of the battlegroup as well. Big, small, young and old, they all wanted the ladies’ attention.

  Not that I needed the warning from Zakar. I was Trion, not an idiot. I did not disrespect females, but the social structure within a battlegroup was fascinating. The warriors were in charge of all things military, and their mates were equal to them in rank on the civilian side. In fact, when it came to domestic disputes or living arrangements, any part of day-to-day life, Lady Zakar out-ranked her mate, the commander of an entire battlegroup. As for the children, they adored the ladies, worshipped them like mythical creatures and craved their attention.

  I’d read all of this, of course, back in my school days when we learned about the different planets and their unusual cultures, but seeing it in action was completely different. Watching Miranda blossom with such joy was sobering indeed. I could not have offered her this on Trion. It showed how incomplete a life she would have had there with me. That perhaps she’d been correct in walking away from me and being tested. The children with her were lucky, but so was I.

  I would miss the sun, the sand and the fresh breeze on my face only found on Trion. If I could have Miranda, I would learn to live without. It would not be a hardship when I could see her smiling face. Hear her laugh, her moans of pleasure, feel the way her pussy clenched my cock, watched as she pleased her other mate. Even now, I hardened with want for her. Yet even with the knowledge I could sink into her sweet heat every night, space was more of an adjustment than I’d been anticipating.

  Who the fuck was I kidding? I’d foolishly thought to arrive, steal her away from whatever idiot she’d been mated to, and transport back to Trion. I’d thought to take her from her new mate and give up nothing.

  I sighed, ran a hand over my face. I’d been a fool. More than a fool. Selfish. Idiotic. Gods, I didn’t deserve her. In that, Trist was right. I wasn’t worthy to be her mate if I thought of myself first. I couldn’t give her up though. I wouldn’t. No matter the cost to my pride, my ego, or even my life, she would be mine. I would share her with a big Prillon warrior who was gruff and severe with everyone but Miranda. With her, he changed. He was… more. He knew that having a mate required sacrifice, accommodation. Transformation.

  I did. Now. And that made me an idiot. But I was trying.

  Miranda chose that moment to laugh as the young Prillon girl had done something to create a cloud of the strange white powder she called flour, something from Earth used to make sweet foods. The flour hovered in the air before settling on her head. She had lovely copper colored hair, and the white powder made her look very silly indeed. I couldn’t help but smile.

  The entire group laughed as Miranda hugged the mischievous young one. All of them were smudged with the flour, but no one seemed to mind. Her dark green gown was coated and smudged with the stuff, especially the curve of her breast beneath the clinging fabric. That green was Trist’s color. Trist’s claim. It seemed a cruel irony that the jewels in the adornments I had designed and used upon her were the same color. I imagined how my adornments would hang from those round nipples pierced with rings, how the gold medallions would hang between on a thin chain and tug on her nipples to keep her constantly aroused. My cock grew harder still watching her glow with happiness,
with contentment and a sense of peace I’d never seen on her face before.

  The flour was inconsequential. As were the rest of the ingredients for the cookies I’d heard Roark talk about back on Trion. Miranda had a love for something called baking, making edible food by hand. I was perfectly content with the S-Gen machine and had never seen flour, butter or eggs before, but the experience of teaching the children how to do this baking obviously made my mate… no, Trist’s mate, very happy.

  I thought of the lucky warrior. Trist’s smile was pure adoration for his female and never in my life had I been so envious of another male. The three of us had transported together to this support ship. Trist had a meeting with the crew and he hadn’t wanted Miranda far from his side.

  I was in complete agreement for once, not wanting to leave her side either. I joined them. There was not a chance I would let the two of them go off on their own. If I were to win at least part of Miranda’s heart, I needed to be with her, not lazing about on the main battleship.

  He, too, watched our mate. Yes, she was mine, gods be damned. He’d returned from his meeting with the crew and leaned against the wall near the door, arms crossed, a look on his face I knew well. I’d felt that way when she’d been mine. Or at least been in my bed back on Trion. I’d been content. Full of desire and possessive urges and the need to protect.

  Even here on a support ship, I worried for her safety. Trist did as well, and I didn’t need a collar to sense that. It seemed she, too, had an important purpose in visiting the ship, something about meeting the crew on all the ships as she was the new second in command to Lady Zakar.

  What a responsibility and yet she was enjoying it, making a mess and having fun. He went to his meeting, and I sat in this room, watching the female I cared about happily explore her new life and her new role as the important and influential Lady Treval. I stared at the black collar around her neck and knew it would be green before long. She still had nearly three weeks to decide if Trist was the mate for her, although I knew she didn’t need that time. She was sure of the match. She was in love… and not with me. Not anymore. I’d totally fucked that up.

  From the way she kept looking up at Trist, her heart in her eyes and desire flushing her skin, I realized, for the first time, the true enormity of my mistake.

  Trist kept nothing from her. Not his need, his desire, his heart, his vow to protect and cherish her. Where I’d been a coward, he was bold in his feelings, claiming her for the entire universe to see and recognize. And the connection they shared through the collars, he couldn’t hide a thing from her, even if he wanted to. I had no doubt that if anyone in the Fleet threatened her, Trist would tear that person limb from limb without a second thought. And she knew it, too.

  Even I knew what she meant to him. Everything. Fucking everything. The stars and moons and reason for drawing breath.

  If she and I had worn collars during our months of… of friends with benefits, perhaps things would have turned out differently. She’d have known how I felt, even when I hadn’t. But I’d been a fool and kept my feelings from her when she was in my arms, my bed. I’d denied my truest intentions. I’d been selfish, excusing my lack of honesty with her by convincing myself I was doing it for her, when the truth was that I’d only been thinking about what was easier for myself. I didn’t want to hold her again and walk away. I didn’t want to see her cry. I didn’t want to know that she was worrying about me, or missing me, or needing me when I wasn’t there for her. I made the mission my priority and my weakness second.

  But would she have been happy? Would she have been whole? The Brides Testing clearly showed she wanted more than I could give her. She wanted the dependability and structure of a Prillon. She wanted two mates. While Trist was definitely one, I wanted to be the other.

  Miranda had been last on my stupid priority list and that’s why I was here now, on a Prillon support ship trying to prove myself to one of the toughest, meanest bastards I’d ever met.

  Oh, he wasn’t that way with her. I’d seen exactly how much he bent for his female.

  But ask anyone on the battleship, in the entire battlegroup—and I had been doing just that for the last two days—and to a warrior I was informed that Trist was the coldest, most calculating, toughest, most honorable, battle-hardened warrior in the Fleet.

  Which was just my fucking luck. I didn’t have to win over a jovial or even accommodating male. No, Miranda had been matched to someone who was just as much a bastard as I.

  If our roles were reversed and he’d been the one to break Miranda’s heart, I probably would have killed him.

  My only saving grace was the way Miranda looked at me, the way her emotions toward me, even ones I didn’t understand, were felt by Trist. No doubt, his magical collars were the only reason I was still alive. Miranda still cared for me, despite all my failings. I knew her. Knew her body. Her heart. She was softness and light, so sweet and submissive. So trusting and pure of heart. She needed a hard bastard to protect her, to keep her safe—both mentally and physically.

  For a while, the tough bastard had been me. And I’d failed.

  I wasn’t surprised at Trist’s strength of character. His dominant nature. He was fucking perfect for her. And if I were being honest with myself—a new oath I’d made after my first night of sleeping alone—I admired him. He was good for her. He would never fail her, never betray her.

  But after we’d taken her together, Trist hadn’t allowed me to touch her again. We’d taken her many times that night, sometimes both of us touching her together, other times fucking her individually, the other watching. He’d told me I’d proven my ability to pleasure her, but not to protect her. I was Trion. Small. Weak. Even being part of the I.C. and a doctor, I had to prove myself to him now, not as Miranda’s lover, but as a worthy second. Someone of honor. Someone who would keep her safe and happy, not just in the bedroom, but out of it.

  And fuck me if that wasn’t going to be a lot tougher than making Miranda whimper and beg for more in bed. He’d kicked me back to my own quarters since that one night. I slept alone while he held her at night. Wrapped her in his arms and made love to her.

  While other Prillon males paraded around in front of her, bowed before her, kissed her hand and offered their protection in front of Trist. He hadn’t taken any of them up on their offer. Yet.

  But he could. Any moment, any one of them could steal her away from me forever.

  Fark. Fark. Fark.

  Maybe I could just challenge Trist to a duel.

  Even as my blood began to boil at the thought of being denied, I caught Miranda meeting his gaze once again and sighed. She loved the bastard. I knew that look. Once upon a time, that look had been directed at me.

  Again, I was being selfish. Fighting Trist would only hurt her. And the other, even more disturbing thought that had been running through my mind since our bed play? She’d been matched to Prillon Prime. She’d shattered into a million pieces sheltered between us that night. She needed two mates to be truly happy. Two mates for protection, security and loving. Which meant I either came to grips with the idea of sharing her, or I had to walk away.

  And that was not fucking happening.

  The kids made little round balls of their creations and placed them on tiny metal sheets. Lined up behind them on a table were four small devices Miranda called toaster-ovens. They carefully slid the sheets inside, careful not to burn themselves—the little machines were dangerous as could be—and Miranda instructed them to turn a circular knob on the front to set the time.

  I didn’t know what any of that meant, but she tried to explain to me that the box would heat the flour mixture, dry it out, and that would be when the white stuff she called cookies, would be ready to eat.

  Why add the liquid in the first place when she needed the flour to be dry in order to eat it?

  I didn’t understand, but she was happy and no one burned themselves from the fire traps, so I sat and watched and made sure nothing threatened her.
That was my job as a potential second, was it not? And sleeping alone, I had come to realize that I very much wanted to be with her, as a first, second or tenth, I didn’t care. She was mine and I had every intention of correcting my mistakes and earning her trust again, even if that took the rest of my life.

  The kids had just finished washing their hands when an alarm sounded.

  Miranda froze and looked immediately to Trist, her mate, to keep her safe. “What is that?”

  He looked at me across the room, and I moved closer to Miranda and the kids, placing myself between them and the door. I knew that sound. It was universal within the entire Coalition Fleet. That was a battle alarm. Why here and now was the question.

  Trist took up position in front of the door and placed his hand on his comm. “This is Trist. Report.”

  Nothing but static answered him and he drew his ion blaster. I didn’t have one, as Trist had pointed out—with great pleasure—that I was a doctor, not a warrior.

  Well, fuck that.

  I jogged to the S-Gen machine. “Ion blaster, gradient zero-one-zero.”

  “Authorization code?” The computer buzzed and Trist turned to me with shock in his eyes. I ignored him.

  “This is Doctor Valck Brax, Intelligence Core, clearance level zero-one-zero, access code Earth Miranda Doyle.”

  “Voice confirmed. Code correct. Complete biometric scan.”

  “Brax, what are you doing?” Miranda was moving closer, wringing her hands before her as she glanced to the children. “And why did you say my name?”

  “I’m protecting you.” Apparently, all of my code clearances were still in the Coalition Fleet’s system, and thank the gods for that. If this ship had communication blackout by Hive attack forces, I wouldn’t have been able to access a weapon unless my information was already stored in their system.

  I stepped onto the black scanner pad lined with bright green bars and waited. This part always burned a bit, as the scan was more intense than the normal used for clothing measurements. Not many knew the scanners were also capable of becoming transport pads, but Trist would know. As did I. And the weapon I’d requested was way above a doctor’s grade, reserved for Intelligence Core operations or battleship commanders.