The men left her alone for most of the day, which was good. At midday she peeked out the curtained window and spotted them below at the front of the house, fixing the loose steps. Shirts off in the heat, Sophia admired the hard muscles of their back and shoulders. The skin, tawny and golden, nearly shimmered in the sun. The two males barely spoke as they worked in tandem, a testament to their deep partnership.
Their shirtless state also gave her a good look at their tails. She didn’t know why those things were so fascinating but she wanted to grasp each one firmly and tug, run her fingers down its length, twist her fingers in the tuft of hairs at the end. The tails came out the back of their jeans through a flap, much like the fly at the front of their pants.
Sophia licked her lips and wondered what it would be like to have the two males focusing their attention on her. Would their moves be as flawless and cooperative as when they performed simple repairs? What would it be like to have two sets of hands work on her? Hmm.
A knock on the back door broke her musing.
Alton poked his head in. “Can I interest you in dinner?”
“It’s too hot to eat,” she said.
“You worked hard cleaning up after two slobs,” Alton said. “I figure you need a good meal.”
“Did you cook already?” No enticing aromas wafted through the house.
“Actually,” he said, leaning against the door frame, “I thought we could make it together.”
“You just want to show off,” she said, climbing to her feet.
“It’s only a meal,” Alton said. “Honest. No games.”
She followed him downstairs into the kitchen. While the men neglected cleaning the rest of the house, the kitchen was spotless. White painted cabinets lined one wall with a warm, well oiled butcher block counter. On the far wall sat a heavy wooden table with two long benches. An old fashioned stove, small counter, and the sink sat at the far end, under a large window. The kitchen was friendly and comfortable. She failed to notice that the previous morning.
Sophia peeked in the paper bag on the table, finding pasta and jar of marinara sauce. Earth food was on the menu that night.
“Did you go shopping just for me?” The shipping and tax on Earth exports had to be staggering.
“You don’t like pasta?” Alton unpacked the ingredients. Zan produced a chilled bottle of wine.
“Is there anything I need to do?” Sophia asked, watching the men work.
“Not a blessed thing,” Zan said, “except enjoy some wine. Maybe boss us around a bit. We know how you like that.” He winked.
Against her better judgment, Sophia blushed. Damn frustratingly sexy alien.
Aliens.
Zan opened cabinet doors, searching for wine glasses, presumably. He held up a glass jelly jar. “Are you willing to drink this fine wine out of a jelly jar? We don’t have fancy glassware.”
“I’m not particular,” she said. A glass was a glass and better than drinking straight out of the bottle.
“Jelly jars it is,” Zan said, pulling out two jars and a plastic tumbler with a winter themed penguin looking creature. If penguins were purple and green instead of black and white. He unscrewed the cap and poured out a dark red wine.
Sophia accepted a glass. The dark red wine glowed invitingly when she held it up to the light. Good clarity and a sweet, fruity scent. She and Zan clinked jelly jars. She took a sip: rich and sweet cherry flooded her mouth. Nice. “Fancy wine is lost on me,” she said.
“It’s not too fancy,” Zan said.
“It’s nice,” Sophia said, taking another sip. “I never would have figured you for a wine guy.”
Zan shrugged. “I guess we’re breaking down all sorts of stereotypes tonight, aren’t we.”
“Are we?” Sophia sat at the table and watched the men work. Alton diced and sautéed a meat that looked like chicken in a skillet. Zan boiled water for the pasta and put garlic bread in the oven. The two males were equally gorgeous and eager to please her. There were worse things.
“What kind of wine is it?” she asked.
“It’s a special brew for children,” Alton said.
Sophia choked.
“We noticed how you couldn't really handle your brew last night,” Zan said, a smirk on his lips.
“So you gave me a children’s drink? And who lets their kid drink wine?”
Alton shrugged. “It’s mostly fruit juice and water. Don’t humans let their young ones have a small glass at dinner?”
“Some places, I guess.” She still didn’t like the idea of drinking a children’s wine. “Next time, just let me enjoy the adult beverages with the other adults, alright?”
Zan spied her mother's painting hanging over the mantle and went into the common room.
Sophia followed him. “You don't like me do you?” she asked. “Alton likes me.”
His arms were folded behind his back as he studied the painting of the girl in the barn, but she could see his eyes flickering toward her.
“He follows his gut,” Zan said, “which is why he's got a little paunch.” Zan slapped his washboard abs for emphasis. What a liar. She saw both men without their shirts that afternoon, working in the front of the house. Both were lean and muscular without an extra ounce of fat.
“And you take your time?”
He winked. “I'm not one to brag about it.” His attention returned to the painting. “This picture is really remarkable because shadows in the foreground are technically difficult. Is this yours?”
Knowledgeable art appreciation. The alien cowboy was full of surprises.
“My mother's actually.”
“She's talented.”
Sophia nodded. Her mother had been a hobbyist painter but she wasn’t noteworthy for her painting skill. “She developed the chemical compound that binds the paint to the canvas. It’s flexible and indestructible. You can roll it up and send it across the universe and it’d come out fresh as a daisy.”
“You have insurance on it?” Zan asked.
Sophia shook her head. Derek got an estimate a few years ago. “It’s only really worth anything to an art historian or a chemistry fan.”
“But the sentimental value is priceless.”
She opened her mouth to reply when Alton called them into the kitchen. He presented her a plate of penne in marinara with chicken. The red sauce complimented her second glass of dark cherry wine. Steam curled heavily from the plate, scent buoyant. Another photo perfect meal. Alton watched her expectantly while she got a few pieces of pasta and a chunk of chicken on her fork. He held his breath while she raised the fork to her lips.
Sophia smiled. It tasted as good as it smelled. “I don’t know how you do it,” she said. “Amazing.”
“Butter and salt,” Alton said, smiling and tucking into his own plate. His tail wagged in delight.
Dinner conversation was normal bordering on mundane, the kind of things regular folk talked about at the end of the day. Alton pressed her about her impression of Corra (hot). Zan demanded to know if she planned to make the entire house smell like a flower shop (yes).
“We lost another two calves last night,” Zan said. “We need to brand them and fast.” Zan also would like to get a solid night sleep and not spend any more nights waiting for cattle rustlers. He had two young colts to break in and train and an endless amount of fence to string. The people who stole the calves did a fair amount of damage to the ranch’s fencing.
The conversation flowed easily and comfortably. She wandered into the common room and played with the media center until music poured out of crackling speakers. The sound of swinging brass instruments filled the room. The evening was all so normal, not at all like they were three strangers contractually married.
Sophia closed her eyes and swayed to the music. Alton plucked the empty jelly jar out of her hand and set it down on the mantle.
“I didn’t think the wine was so strong,” he said.
“It’s not.” It really wasn’t. Sweet and pleasan
tly warm, she was far from tipsy on the wine. “I’m just happy.”
Sophia opened her eyes and swung toward Alton. She placed his left hand on her waist and grabbed his right. She stepped back to the music and pulling Alton with her.
“What are you doing?” he asked, his dark eyes wide.
“Don’t Corravians dance?”
“Not really.”
“Well, Terrans do. I’ll go easy on you, big boy,” she said. The music slowed and she pulled in, resting her head on his shoulder. They swayed to the gentle rhythm. They made slow progress around the room, Alton moving stiffly. He was pleasantly warm and smelled so damn nice. Actually, he smelled like dinner, which was very nice. Delicious, really. Alton smelled delicious. Clearly he attempted to seduce her with food.
It was working.
The tail came around and skimmed up the back of her legs.
Sophie’s eyes went wide. Alton was not relying solely on the seduction-by-food strategy.
Zan watched them from the kitchen, leaning against the doorway. His intense gaze ate them up. Her up. Not a jealous gaze, not exactly, but was possessive, like she was the greatest treasure and he didn’t want to share her with anyone else in the universe except Alton.
“How long have you fellas been a Brace? Is that the correct phrase?”
“Actually, it’s joined a Brace, but close enough,” Zan said. “We joined right after college.”
“We’ve known each other since we were children, though,” Alton added.
Sophia turned to Zan. “You went to college?” The males were full of surprises.
A smile cracked across his golden honey toned face. “Got a degree in mechanical engineering. Alton here went with agriculture and ranch management. Being nimble enough to meet market demands and remain competitive against the corporate farms just doesn’t happen by accident. You think this ranch runs itself?”
“I don’t know what to think,” Sophia said.
“I told you,” Alton said. “Fancy city girl with all her prejudice. Thinks we’re simple folks. Can’t believe a cowboy went to school.”
“I never said anything like that,” Sophia said, facing Alton. The teasing grin on his face made her pause, interrupting the torrent of angry words about to spew. He looked so damn happy.
She returned her head to his shoulder, letting him lead awkwardly. So not a dancer. She had always judged how a man would be in bed based on his dancing skills. If he could move it on the dance floor, he could move it just right between the sheets, or so she heard. It was one of those silly notions teenage girls whisper to each other and giggle, blushing at a school dance but it stuck with her.
How would Alton move? He had an easy, graceful stride, so he had that going on. And Zan? Sophia blushed, unable to fathom where to start with two men in one bed. And they were so much larger than her. Where would they find a bed big enough to accommodate all three of them? She pictured pushing together the two large beds upstairs, forming a gigantic bed. That seemed right.
And being in one bed with the two of them? That seemed really right.
“Are you two... romantic with each other?” she asked. They had two beds, not one, but she had to know. Would it make a difference? She was here for a year, regardless, but the idea that the two men would kiss her and then each other made her hot and excited.
Alton shook his head. “No. I like Zan plenty but not like that.”
“Think of it as a hobby we share, like fishing,” Zan added.
“This is nothing like fishing,” Sophia said.
“Sure it is,” he said. “Only we’re fucking.”
“Actually,” Alton said, “she’s right. It’s more like hunting.” They grinned ear to ear and gave each other a fist bump. Boys.
Sophia rolled her eyes and broke away. The slow fog of the sweet wine lifted and her mind cleared. “So you play a game of who can seduce a woman first and then what? Threesome?” Possessive jealousy flared at the idea of another woman with her men.
Alton shook his head and reached for her hand. “Lots of women like the idea of a threesome, but when you’re looking for a long term relationship the prospects dry up.”
Alton still held her hand. Sophia eyed him warily. Zan reached in and placed his hand on top of theirs. “As you can imagine, it’s hard finding a woman open minded enough to settle down on an active sentry post.”
“Warriors not popular husband material?”
“We’re a bit rough for some,” he said.
Sophia laughed. Rough was an understatement but she wasn't put off by their sloppy housekeeping. The two gorgeous men may have been feral bachelors but they were desperate to seduce her, yearning for a serious relationship. When it rains, it pours.
Zan and Alton shared a look.
“We’re not that funny,” Alton said.
“Speak for yourself. I’m hilarious.”
“No,” Sophia said, shaking her head. “It’s not you. It’s all this.” She waved a hand vaguely at the males and then larger room as a whole.
“I realize this is not the Terran way,” Alton said. Not even close. “We can go as slow as you need.” He sighed and briefly disappointment flickered across his face.
Sophia smiled at the sweet, sincere expression. She reached up and patted his cheek. His eyes closed, leaning into her hand. “Thank you for understanding,” she said.
“This is really fast and I don’t know anything about you two.”
“You know I’m a terrible dancer,” Alton said, hands on her waist and pulling her back to him.
“Not so terrible,” she said. Practice makes perfect and as long as practicing meant she got to be held against his hard, taunt form, she was all about practice.
Alton led her in a two step, twirling to the rhythm. Each movement grew more confident. Zan joined seamlessly, taking her mid twirl and placing his hand on her waist. They did not miss a step. The men traded her between them, moving in harmony, functioning as a whole. The men moved better together than separately. Hmm. Maybe there was something to the idea of good on the dance floor being good in bed. She hoped so.
“Think about it,” Alton said, pulling her close when the melody slowed. “Twice the hands, twice the tail and twice the mouths.”
That sounded so appealing.
Zan pressed behind her, his hands on her waist. Alton’s hands on her lower back. It felt natural to be between the two alien males, protected and secure. She didn’t notice when Zan brushed back her hair and kissed the nape of her neck. Alton’s hands caressed her hips and the curve of her bottom. It seemed right when Alton leaned for a gentle kiss. His lips brushed against hers in invitation to greater pleasures. She hummed with delight and turned to kiss Zan.
Zan’s lips claimed hers with intensity. Alton’s long fingers skimmed up her thighs, lifting up the hem of her dress. His fingers worked under the thin fabric of her soaked panties. Zan pressed into her from behind, his arousal obvious. Alton held her in the front, his hands on her hips, equally aroused. Two could be nice. Extraordinary, actually.
“Don’t make a decision now,” Zan said. “Let’s just explore.”
Sophia nodded. Exploration sounded reasonable, responsible, even. She owed it to herself to explore this unmapped territory. “Can I touch your tail?”
Alton looked like she could knock him over with a feather.
Zan gave Alton a smirk. “I told you she was bold.”
A blush overtook her. “If it’s weird, never mind.”
“No, no,” Alton stuttered out, his cool confidence shaken. “That’s just not a first date kind of thing.”
“We’re married,” she said.
“So we are.”
“And I’m curious. Terran’s don’t have tails.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“Been starring at my ass?”
“I have,” Zan added helpfully. “You can pull my tail anytime, asali.”
Alton placed the end of his tail in her hand. The tail was covered in a lig
ht, downy fuzz. It was soft, almost velveteen. The end was tufted in course hair nearly the texture of a beard. The color matched the hair on his head. She worked her fingers into the tuft, like she would pet a cat. His eyes closed in pleasure.
Yeah, she was digging the tail.
She turned to Zan. “Your turn.” She gave his tail the same treatment and was rewarded with the same eye rolling reaction.
Alton pressed against her while she stroked the underside of Zan’s tail. His thumb worked under her panties, brushing against her lower lips. As he brushed his thumb against her tingling core, she jumped with a bolt of electricity. Sophia glanced away, fixing her gaze on the clock on the wall.
Zan placed his thumb and forefinger under her chin and turned her head back to him. A week ago she worried about making rent and finding a job. Now she was on an alien planet, married and making out with her two gorgeous husbands. Shit. Sophia’s heart raced, thumping heavily in her chest from arousal and worry. The last man she took a chance with made her life hell. What did she even know about them?
Nothing. Not a damn thing.
Sophia pulled away, extracting herself from Zan’s embrace and Alton’s hands. “This is too fast,” she said.
“Okay,” Alton said, backing away. “Then let’s slow down.”
Sophia brought a hand to her mouth and bit on a knuckle, suppressing a laugh.
Zan exchanged a look with Alton. They thought she was batty now. Fantastic.
“How do we slow this down?” she asked. “We’re already married.”
Alton shrugged. “How about a date?”
Sophia laughed. “Oh my gosh, that’s so old fashioned. Can you pick me up at my mother’s at seven?”
“When’s curfew?” he asked.
Sophia went to the kitchen sink, grabbed a glass drying in the drain board and filled it with tap water. How much wine did she have? Enough for a hangover. Enough to regret.
Sensing the mood had passed, Zan and Alton cleared the table. Zan washed and Alton dried the dishes. Sophia sat at the table, staring at her glass of water. When the last dish was put away, Sophia said, “The night after tomorrow.”
Delivered to the Aliens: Cosmic Connections Page 6
