Science Friction: 15 Book MEGA Sci-Fi Romance Bundle (Excite Spice Boxed Sets)

by Selena Kitt

  “Jelal, please.”

  “Soon, love. I need you make sure you’re ready. I’m not exactly small.” Putting a second finger in then a third, Jelal stretched and readied me for his access.

  “Love. I like that.”

  “Good, because I mean it and I’ve waited five long fucking years to be able to say it again. I love you, Seth. It took a while, but will you be mine?” Jelal positioned his cock head to my waiting entrance.

  “You know the answer to that. It’s ‘yes’, a thousand times.”

  He drove into me, sheathing himself completely until his balls brushed against my ass. I groaned, loving the feel of his fingers on my hips. Blanketing his body over mine, Jelal kissed me, tender and slow, kindling the building heat inside me. He rode me then, strokes sure and fast, reducing us both to panting animals.

  “Faster, baby.” I wanted to forget all the bad memories of that place. In a way, Jelal and I making love was a kind of cleansing. Today, we buried the past to make way for our future.

  Jelal hammered into me, going faster and deeper. Switching the angle of his thrusts, Jelal hit my sweet spot. Eyes widening, I clutched at his shoulders. He aimed for my prostate repeatedly, at the same time reaching for my hardening dick with his hand. Gliding his hand up and down my member, he timed his hand movements with his thrust.

  “Again, love. Give me your release.”

  At those words, my head reeled and Jelal hurtled both of us to edge. Screaming out his name, waves of pleasure assaulted my body, making me spill my come over his fingers and ribs again. He let out a triumphant load, filling my ass with his warm and sticky load.

  Jelal promised no one but he would touch me again. I shuddered at that thought, glad and relieved at once. Collapsing on top of me, Jelal stayed there, hugging me tight, as if he was afraid to lose me again. I felt the same. This time, I was certain whatever the universe threw at us, we’d overcome it together.

  Recovering first, Jelal got off me and disposed of the condom. I drew myself up further on the bed, breathing in the scent of Jelal on the sheets. When I opened my eyes, I found him looking at me, expression amused. He held out something to me then. Glinting inside a battered looking velvet box, were two gold wedding bands.

  It took half a decade, but Jelal found his way back to me despite the odds. Outside his quarters, the vastness of space stared back at us. Fate offered us a second chance among the stars, and only a fool would refuse.

  I said the words he wanted to hear. “I do, baby. I’m yours and you’re finally mine.”

  “Finally.”

  The End

  ABOUT ANGELIQUE VOISEN

  A bisexual, twenty-something, type-2 diabetic MM erotic romance writer (who writes the occasional ménage and FF pairings), Angel also likes experimenting with different sub-genres. http://angelvoisen.blogspot.com

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  His Only Hope by Erica Conroy

  The aliens had separated her from her family more than a year ago. For the most part they ignored her, leaving her to her own devices until called upon. The walls of her prison kept her safe from the winter that had blasted the planet since her capture, but not from the aliens themselves.

  She hissed when a hairy arm snagged her about the waist, drawing her closer. He barked in her face and tossed her aside in favor of a female of his own kind. Tonight, it seemed, would be another night of debauchery. Sex wasn’t abhorrent to her, but her people at least had the decency to fornicate in private. These creatures, however...

  “Psst.”

  Her head turned at the unusual noise. It came from behind one of the wall hangings that sometimes covered clear parts of the wall through which she could see outside. A lumpy part of the covering moved. Hesitantly, she drew closer, curious about what had attracted her attention.

  Carefully she twitched the hanging but was dismayed to find one of the aliens hiding there. No doubt his intentions would also be unsavory. He pushed the hanging back further so she could see him better. He wasn’t like the other aliens. She had never seen him participate in the behaviors of his kind. No, this one had been studying her. Once he realized they were causing her pain, he had stopped them. Or at least lessened it. They had spent a lot of time together and even created a shared way to communicate, using hand gestures and head movements.

  She tilted her head to the side, wondering what he wanted. His response startled her. He pulled something from his clothing and opened it. Inside she saw the last thing she expected to see: a pressed flower. Not just any flower, but one only found near a sacred place. She looked from the flower to the intelligent eyes of the alien male before her.

  Did he know what was expected of her? Had her people sent him to rescue her? She had no way to know, as their way of speaking was limited. The aliens communicated in an entirely different way than she did. Their means of communication were comprised of strange sounds that they strung together in ways only they could understand. Her people spoke in each other’s minds, which was a more effective means of understanding one another.

  Looking at the flower once more, she put her trust in that flower-bearing alien and smiled. He returned it and gestured for her to follow him behind the hanging. When he moved to allow her room, she could see that one of the portals was open. This was probably her only chance, so she took it—fleeing her alien captors for freedom with the help of one of their own kind. She hoped the flower had not led her wrong. She also hoped that she was up to the monumental task before her.

  Cord stumbled into the bar. It was the first bar on the edge of human civilization. Normally he wouldn’t set foot in society, but he was desperate. He needed a drink. The barman said nothing. Instead, he offered salvation, in the form of a short glass of the local brew. Not the bad stuff that the poor dregs of humanity were served, but the good stuff. Cord wondered if the man knew him. Whatever the reason, he didn’t care. Not when that drink was waiting to be drunk. He obliged and down it went. A second, third and more chased after it and it wasn’t long before he couldn’t remember why he was there, where there was, or even who the hell he was for that matter. At least until some idiot, who couldn’t keep his trap shut, also recognized him.

  “You that tracker they says can track a harlot bird ‘cross the Twin Rivers?” the idiot asked.

  Cord looked up at the barman, already in the process of removing breakables from his bar, before he swiveled his stool around to face said idiot.

  “Might,” Cord said and waited for the inevitable demand to prove it.

  “Oh I believe ya,” said the idiot. “It’s why I gotta kill ya.”

  Cord had trouble raising his drunken eyebrow at the unexpected development. “Go for it,” he said and turned back to the bar, only to find the barman had not only disappeared but had taken the top shelf with him.

  “Crut,” he muttered.

  “Face me, man. I can’t shoot a man in t’back.”

  The unseen barrel of Cord’s projectile weapon peeked out from under his elbow. “You should,” Cord told him. He fired and watched the idiot’s reflection drop dead in the mirror over the bar.

  “Surprised he lived this long,” Cord said as he attempted to gain his feet.

  He was up and lurching away on his fourth try. A glance was all the dead idiot got as he walked past. Cord was in no condition to bend over and search the body without falling on his face. He’d leave the pickings to the barman or some street urchin who needed currency more than he did. Cord already had what he wanted. He was beautifully drunk and th
is idiot had, unfortunately, reminded him he was here for a job.

  “Crut,” he swore again and veered off across the road. “Why ain’t I dead yet?”

  “Cause you’re one lucky sonuvabitch,” a familiar voice told him. Gerrit, his old friend from back in the Corps, fell into step beside him.

  Both had traveled across the universe to colonize this forsaken planet. Something in the ground acted like an electromagnetic pulse, rendering technology and circuits useless. Once they had gotten to shore though, any tech the colonists had harbored was now nothing more than fancy paperweights. Most of them, like Cord and Gerrit, had come properly prepared. The colonists welcomed the simpler lifestyle, or at least they had, until winter set in and kept going for well over a year.

  Everyone knew it would be a one-way trip. The scientists figured there was enough water between the ocean floor containing the EMP-like dirt for shuttles to safely operate between the spaceship and ocean platform. And they had been right. Sailing boats they had brought with them were then used to ferry the colonists from there to shore. Somewhere along the way, those boats had disappeared so they couldn’t return to the ocean platform to send a distress call. Even if they could, it would be decades before help would arrive—if at all.

  Cord grunted a greeting. “Cursed more like,” he corrected.

  Gerrit chuckled and shook his head. “You’re looking at life all the wrong way, my friend. You should be thankful you’re alive and living it up. Not drowning in that dross,” Gerrit said, waving his hand in front of his face to waft the stink of Cord away.

  “I am living,” he argued.

  Gerrit’s hand kept Cord from stumbling into a water trough. “Drinking and whoring ain’t living,” he told him as he eyed the giant slobber-filled trough thoughtfully.

  “Nothing else to spend my hard-earned currency on,” Cord said and shrugged him off.

  “Your cabin—”

  Despite his drunkenness, Cord’s strength was still punishing. Gerrit reeled at the blow to his jaw. He fell backward on the dirt road and rolled quickly back to his feet. With a yell of rage, Gerrit rushed his friend and both flew into the trough amid fists and fury.

  Cord delivered the last punch before the combatants, energy drained, climbed out of the disgusting mix of water and mount slobber. Aching and gasping for air, both were a sorry sight and they knew it. Gerrit was the first to laugh and Cord reluctantly joined him.

  “Come on, let’s get,” Gerrit said, pulling himself together long enough for common sense and the lure of a well-paid job set in. “We’re already late.”

  Cord nodded but stopped his friend long enough to grind out the warning, “Don’t talk about it—or them—again.”

  “Got it,” Gerrit assured him. Cord didn’t need to say their names for Gerrit to know he meant his late wife and child. Losing her and his young son was what had sent the once-proud and decorated war hero into this self-destructive tailspin. One that, hopefully, wouldn’t last much longer.

  “Hope.”

  She recognized the sound the alien with the flower had given her, and looked up expectantly. His nonverbal clues told her that they were ready. The other aliens he had been waiting for had arrived.

  It soon became clear to her that this alien hadn’t been sent by her family. He had revealed that he knew more about her people and their planet than any other alien she had encountered. He knew of her healing powers, but so did the aliens who had kept her prisoner. Unlike them, he knew she had a destiny. From what she could tell from his actions, he intended to see her fulfill it.

  Her people would be shocked to know she allowed him to help. To her it made perfect sense. Both her people and the aliens would benefit from the fulfillment of her destiny. Every animal, plant, and being relied on her success. Surely the aliens had noticed the unnaturally long winter period that gripped them all. Winter was already twice as long as usual and would continue unless something was done about it. That something was her. If she had not already known this, the insistent tug at her core would have given it away. It practically dragged her north to a location currently unknown to her, but her alien companion seemed to know exactly where. The rare flower had proven that, although so far he hadn’t been able to communicate to her where it had come from, only that he agreed with the direction she felt she needed to go.

  A movement behind her savior’s shoulder attracted her attention. She raised two fingers, the sign assigned to him, to direct his gaze behind him. He looked and smiled at what she thought was a two-headed alien. Her eyes widened at the sight. She had never seen a two-headed one before. But as they came nearer, she saw that there were two aliens, one leaning on the other to walk. Did that mean one was injured? Did her companion want her to heal his friend? She frowned, not liking where her thoughts led her.

  They made noises to each other and she took the opportunity to study them closely. All aliens were hairy, but the injured one was the hairiest one she had ever seen. Shaggy dark hair covered his head and face. He was covered neck to foot in garments, which included hard leg coverings. His hands were bare and she was shocked to find that they were hairy too! This alien in particular unsettled her. His companion at least made an attempt to remove his hair. She had once witnessed this act before in the keep. It was a barbarous practice similar to scraping scales off a live lizard, but at least it made this alien seem less intimidating.

  Her companion did not seem impressed with the state of the hairy one. Injury was not what hindered him, she realized, but the liquid all aliens seemed so fond of, the one that made them more violent and destructive than they already were. It could also incapacitate, and he looked ready to pass out. As if feeling her scrutiny, the object of her study flicked his sad gray eyes in her direction. She couldn’t help it. She hissed at him. His hairy brow rose before he ignored her in favor of her companion who seemed to have finished with his noises and was now shaking hands with the pair.

  “Hope,” he said again and she followed him back to their rooms.

  The next morning Cord nursed his throbbing head. Before Gerrit could stop him, he threw back a slug of the good stuff. It would have to be enough to keep his demons at bay.

  Gerrit shook his head. “That scientist fellow was pretty clear about you not drinking,” he reminded him.

  “Well he ain’t here yet,” was Cord’s reply. He checked his guns and once they were holstered, made sure his flask was in reach. The last thing he needed was to have the shakes on a job. “You get more men last night?”

  “Aye,” Gerrit told him. “Half a dozen waiting outside. Why that scientist is wanting to go to the Ashula Mountains is beyond me.”

  Cord grunted. “He’s not paying me to wonder.”

  “Yeah but to drag his sister out with him, that’s mighty strange if you ask me.”

  “Wasn’t asking,” Cord said, then pushed away from the bar. Outside he saw it had snowed overnight. He welcomed the cold. The cold left a man numb. So did drink, but drink wasn’t free like snow was.

  They squinted at the overly laden carriage that waited in the road. “That them?” Cord asked and his friend nodded. “Let’s get going then.”

  Cord hung back while Gerrit went to his mount. He pulled a crude cigar from his pocket and struck the flint stick against the carriage. As he puffed on his stogie, he eyed the occupants inside. The scientist sat with his sister on the other side of him. She wore one of those big hats that blocked more than just the alien sun and had a book in her hand.

  “Your sister simple?” he asked the scientist.

  “No sir,” the scientist said, taking offense. “She is special.”

  “Special, huh?” Cord said and reached through the window past the man. Taking the book from the girl’s hand, he turned it up the right way and gave it back to her. “We’re leaving now.”

  The scientist sputtered but Cord was already striding toward his mount, a horse-like creature native to the planet. Larger, wider, and hairier than a horse, but suited to th
e environment. Keela was its name. Named by his son. The boy had been adamant that Keela was a girl. Not that Cord knew one way or the other; the animals were that alien. He was waiting for Keela to make a move on another mount so he could find out that way. So far, Keela had no inclination to mate with any mount they had encountered. Not that it mattered. What did was that she was a well-tempered, strong, and faithful animal. What more could a tracker ask for?

  Gerrit returned with his own mount and after clambering astride the beast said to Cord, “You seen that flower he was wearing?”

  “What about it?” Cord asked, trying not to look back at the carriage with its strange occupants.

  “Well aside from the fact he’s wearing a buttonhole, how many other flowers you seen in bloom ‘round these parts?”