by S. L. Hadley
Aaron blinked and stirred, as if she'd woken him. Frowning, he slowly looked toward Lena and Chris. The former had already climbed into the latter's lap and both now appeared oblivious to their audience.
"Um. Yeah." Aaron nodded urgently and climbed unsteadily to his feet. Heather followed suit, ignoring a particularly eager groan from the amorous couple, and stumbled quickly for the nearest exit.
Once outside, Heather was surprised to discover that the sun had already set and the stars were clearly visible. She muttered a curse, pulling out her phone to check the time. The battery was dead of course, which virtually assured she'd have a half dozen panicked calls and texts from her mother--who conveniently managed to forget that her daughter was in college and old enough to take care of herself. Regardless, it would be an hour or so until she was sufficiently sober to avoid giving herself away.
"Are they...?" Aaron muttered. He peeked through the cracked open doorway, then recoiled suddenly and hastily let the heavy, industrial door swing shut. His look of embarrassment lingered as he turned to look at Heather, though his drunkenly flushed face may have played a part as well. "Have they always been like that?"
"Pretty much," Heather said, grinning.
"Damn." Aaron fell silent and together, the two of them began to slowly wander away. As they walked, he cast a final glance over his shoulder. "Lucky bastard."
Laughing, Heather smacked him playfully on the shoulder. "Don't be gross."
Aaron smirked and gave her a gentle, retaliatory shove. "You're gross."
She was about to reply when a deafening horn split the night, loud and close enough that he couldn't have heard her, anyway. Heather whirled, searching for the semi about to come racing out of the darkness to flatten them both.
It never came.
Heather turned back around and shared a look of confusion with her step-brother. He appeared as surprised as she was. The sound grew louder, shaking the beneath her feet, and Heather covered her ears with her hands. Wincing, Aaron followed suit a second later.
Seconds passed and the noise did not subside. Heather began to grow nauseous, far beyond the worst possible effects of the alcohol in her stomach, and sank heavily to one knee. Opposite her, she saw Aaron do the same. Her worry gave way to outright panic, however, when she saw him give a brief, violent shudder and collapse the rest of the way, unmoving.
"Aaron!" she shrieked. She couldn't even hear herself over the continuous, droning roar. A quick glance about confirmed that no one was rushing to her aid.
Heather lunged toward her step-brother, but this proved to be the worst mistake she could have made. The instant her hands left her ears, the full volume and force of the sound struck her. She had a momentary impression of her ears ringing, then felt herself flung headlong into cold, inky unconsciousness.
***
When Heather awoke, the sound had ceased. This was small comfort, however, as her head ached fiercely enough to make her curse the very name of Jack Daniel. A second later, though, she realized that her eardrums were still ringing and tingling. Either she'd developed the world's worst case of tinnitus, or it had been only a few minutes since she'd blacked out.
It was around this time that Heather realized she was naked.
Eyes snapping wide open, she tried to scramble upright. As a result, she realized several additional things at once.
First, she was actually suspended from the ceiling of a small, dimly lit room approximately twice the size of her college dorm room. Vaguely metallic shackles imprisoned her wrists and ankles, holding her limbs somewhat outstretched. Surprisingly, the pressure on them was far less than it should have been--as if some unseen force were helping to keep her aloft. It gave the vague impression of being underwater, though the novelty was greatly diminished by the terror of waking up naked and chained.
Only adding to her horror, however, was the fact that she was not alone. Suspended in a similar manner, no more than a half-dozen feet away, was an equally naked Aaron. He was facing her, though his head lolled and his eyes remained closed--still unconscious for the moment. Heather's first instinct was to shout and wake him, but the thought of being so exposed in front of her step-brother was almost as terrifying as considering who had kidnapped them.
So Heather said nothing. Instead, she struggled to keep from hyperventilating and began to struggle against her bonds. Her heart raced faster than she'd ever felt and it left her chest aching as ferociously as her head. And to make matters worse, the shackles that secured her gave no sign of yielding anytime soon.
Desperate to stave off the inevitable wave of dread that would rob her of the ability to think straight, Heather shut her eyes. A slew of images, borrowed from every horror movie she'd ever seen, assaulted her at once and she promptly opened them again.
There was nothing to look at--the room was utterly barren aside from herself and Aaron--so she reluctantly turned her gaze toward her step-brother.
Their parents had only married a little over two years ago, so Heather sometimes found it difficult to regard Aaron as an actual family member. It wasn't that she didn't love him, quite the opposite. But when she occasionally caught a glimpse of him emerging from the bathroom, clad in nothing but a towel, her stomach twisted into a knot of guilty admiration at the sight of his toned chest and abs. Once in a while, she'd joke with Lena about how if he weren't her brother....
Of course, given the manner in which they were currently suspended, it was difficult for Heather to look at Aaron's face, much less his muscular torso, without also spying... other parts of his anatomy. She swallowed nervously and fought the instinct to examine him. And, to her credit, she even managed for the better part of a minute before her gaze reluctantly sank lower.
It felt wrong in so many ways to be ogling her sleeping step-brother, but Heather justified the violation to herself with a string of excuses as long as his... or, rather, as long as her arm.
If Aaron took after his father, there was little question about why Heather's mother had married him. Though Heather had seen her fair share of naked men--she was in college, after all--her step-brother put them all to shame. He was large, even while asleep, and kept himself well-trimmed. Despite herself--despite everything--she couldn't help but feel a flash of jealousy for whatever lucky woman would wind up marrying him, someday. Whoever she was, she would undoubtedly be a very happy woman.
Aaron stirred without warning and Heather only just managed to lift her gaze before his eyes flickered open. He winced, apparently suffering from the same headache as she was. Then, after a second, he tensed and began to struggle against his chains in a nearly identical fashion. Heather would have laughed if she hadn't been nearly mindless with fear herself.
"Aaron!" she hissed in a desperate whisper.
His struggles ceased almost at once and his gaze met hers. His eyes went wide and he inhaled sharply. For a split-second, he glanced down the length of her exposed body. Then his attention snapped back up as his face went brilliantly red. Heather's own cheeks burned with embarrassment, but she set her jaw and refused to make an issue of it.
Apparently, Aaron had no such reservations. He swallowed hard and pointed out, rather indelicately, "Heather, you're naked."
She scoffed, rolling her eyes. "No shit, Sherlock."
For an instant, a smile flickered across Aaron's face. Then it vanished, leaving only a look of apprehension as he glanced around the empty room.
"Where are we?" he asked in a voice barely louder than a whisper. "What happened?"
"Dunno," she whispered back. "We both passed out. I just woke up a minute before you did."
Aaron frowned, peering around the room once more. Then he inhaled sharply and the panic in his eyes grew more urgent. He began to struggle, tugging futilely at the chains that held him.
"Oh God," he muttered. "This is bad. This is so bad. We've got to get out of here."
Something about his reaction scared Heather even more than the situation itself. The sight of her
step-brother, normally so strong and unflappable, reduced to this turned her blood to ice. She gulped air as she watched him strain and thrash.
A sound, somewhere between a hiss and the grinding of rusted metal suddenly filled the room. Heather's heart skipped a beat and for a moment she thought Aaron had actually succeeded. But then she saw him grow still, illuminated by a brilliant beam of light as a seamless door slid open from the wall to her left.
A being stepped into view. Despite the backlit glow that obscured its features, it was immediately obvious that it was not human. Its legs were impossibly thin and spindly and, although its torso appeared humanoid and normal sized, its head was easily twice the size of a person's. Given that it stood scarcely four feet tall, when compared to its body the cranial dome appeared grossly oversized.
The creature cocked its head slightly, studying first Aaron, then Heather. It turned slowly and Heather had to bite back a scream as she caught sight of an enormous eye, easily the size of her fist, glittering blackly in the light. The creature emitted a rapid series of clicks, then shuffled into the room. Two more beings, virtually identical to the first, shuffled in after it.
Heather shared a terrified look with Aaron. And then the door shut, sealing them in with the creatures.
Continued in Probed by the Big, Green Men
E.T. isn't going home alone!
It turns out, all those jokes about aliens probing Uranus weren't entirely wrong.
When nineteen-year-old Heather is abducted by little, green men from Mars, she's glad to have her stepbrother, Aaron, for company. At least, at first. But she quickly discovers two things about her alien captors.
1. They're not so little.
2. They have plans for her.
Plans that involve experiments and probes. Going places and doing things she'd rather keep private. Unfortunately, Heather has no choice in the matter. And when Aaron's turn comes... neither does he.
Click here to check out Probed by the BIG Green Men!
Looking for sexy space travel? He’ll rock your world.
Problem: Intergalactic travel is lonely and dangerous.
Solution: Fill your ship with sexy alien women.
To be fair, this only solves the lonely part of the problem. But for Capt. James Davison of the galactic survey ship Dionysus that's all that matters. After years of exploring distant star systems, his ship (and bed) are filled to bursting with romantic conquests. Which means it's time for a new challenge: Conquer the Galaxy.
All is fair in love and war, and James is up to his... ears in both. He needs to keep one hand on the throttle and the other on his... weapon, because his naughty crew has needs of their own. And it's tough to fight a war when you've got an eager harem... begging for a broadside.
This bundle contains the COMPLETE Harem Ship Chronicles as well as access to a special bonus chapter too... intense for Amazon! Over 100,000 words of rough, raunchy, sci-fi erotica!
Click here to check out the Harem Ship MEGA BUNDLE!
Sitting in the captain's chair of the SCS Dionysus, James Davison polished his pistol. Not euphemistically, as was sometimes the case, but with good old fashioned grease and cloth. It wasn't strictly necessary--salesmen boasted that the Smith, Colt, & Wesson 2911 was still fit for combat after more than two centuries of neglect--but the simple ritual made him feel better. It helped remind him of the lives he held in his hands. And he couldn't help but admire the deadly beauty of a few, deceptively simple, moving parts.
On the forward facing monitors, an ocean of readings and news alerts blinked in and out of life. Every few seconds, he glanced up and numbly acknowledged some tidbit. Then, without fail, he dropped his attention to the antique firearm. It wasn't even plasma, just steel, brass, and lead. An elegant weapon for a more civilized age.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Janna asked. She sat quietly in a copilot's chair, just back and to the side. Her now-broken silence had stretched on so long he'd almost forgotten she was still there.
James shrugged. The back of his seat would hide the gesture, but she'd no doubt read it in his mind. Psykers were annoying like that.
"It was bound to happen eventually," he said, bracing himself for the inevitable follow-up questions. "We'll handle it as best we can. Like we always do."
"This is worse than some false reports, James. I mean, what you're talking about here..."
"Like taking a drakashi up the ass, right?" he said, straightening. "Speaking of..."
Janna groaned, sounding exasperated. "Are you... I don't believe this. And you realize that could mean two very different things, right?"
Standing, James adjusted his uniform, straightening the collar. "I'll be back in an hour or two."
"Make sure you're top," she warned.
James grinned, pausing by the door. "Right now? Or, like, with this whole going-pirate-and-conquer-the-sector thing?"
Janna glared.
"Both."
***
While Sasha was not especially inhuman looking--at least compared to many others in James' harem--the drakashi female undoubtedly had the least traditional preferences when it came to matters of sexuality. Not to mention a host of other quirks.
He found her curled in the corner, nearly naked as always, on a mountain of blankets and pillows stolen from other concubines. When Sasha had first come aboard, he and others had made the mistake of trying to reclaim their bedding without first distracting her. It had resulted in a nightmare of blood, sweat, and tears that lasted nearly three days. In fact, he'd been on the verge of returning her to her homeworld as a beautiful lost cause. But, having finally lost his temper, he'd violently pinned and bound the drakashi and left her to wriggle helplessly on the floor of his quarters.
The result, when he'd cautiously untied her, had been the best damn lay he'd had in years.
Were it not for the work and danger involved in bedding the drakashi, he'd be mounting her nightly. After all, the tighter he bound her, the rougher he was, the less loving he was, the more Sasha loved it. It was a gift from the universe. Her species expressed arousal in the very manner that his displayed anger. And with the stresses of exploring the galaxy, she was the perfect instrument on which to indulge both.
But damn if the whole ordeal didn't leave him exhausted. That's why he'd made the difficult choice to save Sasha for those nights he needed to vent a little irritation.
Or, you know, when she just stole too many fucking pillows.
Sasha lifted her head from her meal at his approach. It was always steaks for her, cooked far too rare for his tastes. And eaten with a ferocity that made him uneasy.
Sasha smiled and rivulets of pinkish juice leaked down over her chin. It was unnerving. Apart from a pair of twisting, backswept horns that jutted from above her temples, she had the form and appearance of a young, human woman no older than her early twenties, long blond hair and all.
"My lord," she whispered, bowing a bit too fluidly. Her smile widened, flashing a crowded mouth full of fanged teeth.
"Are you busy, Sasha?" James said. It was the nearest he ever came to joking with the utterly humorless drakashi. She never participated in the others' games, never left her mountain except to feed, wash, or relieve herself. And she was never too busy for him.
Sasha shook her head. "Not essspecially. I guard my nessstbed."
It was the only answer she ever gave.
"Will you come to my quarters?"
Around the hold, James saw faces turn toward him. Apparently many of the room's occupants were eager to reclaim their bedding. Sasha, on the other hand, looked conflicted. Eagerness blended together with reluctance.
"Ze femalesss will sssteal my nessstbed. But I will come."
James smiled and nodded regally.
"May I finisssh my food?"
It was the perfect setup and gave him ample time to prepare. Which was, of course, why he'd planned it this way. Eventually, she might grow suspicious of his too-perfect timing, but not today.
<
br /> "Yes. Eat and wash. Then come join me."
The drakashi girl dipped her head low.
"Asss you desssire, my lord."
James fought to keep the grin off his face as he turned and marched back to his quarters.
Yes, I certainly do.
Continued in The Harem Ship Chronicles
E.T. isn't going home alone!
Chloe is your typical college student: coffee-addict, all-nighters, and the occasional bar crawl. But the last thing she ever expected was to be abducted. Especially not by beings from another world.
Traveling across the galaxy isn't a short trip, and Chloe's captors need to keep her healthy. And under control. That means nourishment, whether she wants it or not. And, of course, the human body has other needs as well. Including some from the bedroom.
Which may be exactly what they have in mind.
Chloe soon finds herself a very long way from home. And to make matters worse, she's not exactly alone.
Click here to check out Abduction: Human Resources!
Chloe groaned, burying her face in the center of her textbook. Advanced Business Communication was going to be the death of her. Lifting her face a half-inch only served to confirm a pair of Chloe's suspicions.
1. Her phone was proudly declaring it to be 3:32 in the morning.
2. She was out of coffee.
Groaning again, Chloe threw back her head and sagged in her oversized office chair. Wasn't senior year supposed to be easy? Just coasting through classes and savoring the bar scene until graduation? Apparently not, since it was shaping up to be her second all-nighter this week.
Chloe eyed her broken coffeemaker with loathing and slid reluctantly from her chair. At this rate, she'd owe Starbucks more than she did on her student loans.
