Tattooed Tryst

by Cynthia Sax

  “I changed my mind,” Lori declared, unable to stand still and wait. “I’m running.” She pivoted on her sneaker-clad feet and pelted down the road.

  “The Commander’s a lucky bastard,” Raff called after her. “Transfer well.” A hum filled the air.

  Energy smacked into her, driving her forward. Lori screamed. Her bones bent under the impact, the force crushing her form. Her heart leapt from her chest…literally. Her soul, her sense of self, tore away from her physical form, racing ahead. She floated, weightless for three heartbeats, houses to her left and to her right, cloudy sky above her, pavement under her, the laws of time and gravity suspended.

  “Trake!” Lori screamed. A heavy weight flattened her and she fell into a blackness rivaling her alien’s eyes.

  Chapter Seven

  “Where is she?” Trake roared as he stormed down the brightly lit corridor. “Where is my One?” Orogones scattered in front of him, dashing into offices, knowing not to come between a warrior and his female.

  “Lori!” He grabbed the edges of the sliding doors and yanked the metal apart, out of his mind with need and fear and love.

  The room, dedicated to Earth transfers, resembled an emergency room, the walls white, the chairs appearing damn uncomfortable and the digital clock glowing with giant red numbers. The Orogone attendants wore pastel-colored scrubs, their human forms chosen to reassure transferring beings.

  There was only one being Trake was interested in, one form he longed for, and he didn’t see her. “Lori!”

  “I’m here.” Lori yanked a curtain aside and waved to him, seated cool and composed on a human-style hospital stretcher, her bare legs dangling over the edge and a semi-smile on her beautiful face.

  Trake froze. She’s here. He surveyed her delightfully plush figure, looking for injury, drinking in her riot of brown curls, her sparkling blue eyes, and the coral-colored polish on her cute little toenails. She’s really here, on Orogone, with me. A sense of calm, of rightness spread through his chest.

  “What took you so long?” Lori hopped down from the stretcher, her bare feet smacked against the tiled floor, and the green fabric swathed around her curvaceous body rustled.

  “I left as soon as I felt you.” He stalked toward her, needing to touch her. “But I live on the other side of the planet from this private transfer facility.” The Orogone attendants backed away from Lori, their dark gazes fixed on Trake.

  “That’s quite a trip…I suppose.” Lori nibbled on her bottom lip. “I traveled through space for you.” Pink blazed across her cheeks. “If that counts for something.”

  “That counts for everything. You chose me.” Trake wrapped his arms around Lori and buried his face in her silky brown curls, breathing in the strawberry scent from her shampoo and her natural musk, the arousing combination hardening his body. A low rumble of appreciation and desire rose in his throat. “I missed you, Lori. I was dead without you.”

  “I almost died,” she mumbled into his chest, her lips brushing his tattoo, soothing his tortured souls. Her palms pressed against his back, her fingers spread, as though she wanted to touch as much of him as possible.

  “What?” Trake patted her curves, frantically searching for damage. He found ripe curves and warm woman. “Are you hurt?”

  “Only my pride.” She tugged the blanket higher, covering the crests of her large breasts, the tattoo over her heart proclaiming her bonded state. “You didn’t tell me we transfer naked. Your friends saw me in all my glory.”

  “Your body is merely a vessel for your soul.” Trake glowered at the Orogones, angered with them for upsetting his One. “Leave us,” he commanded. They grabbed communicators and knowledge panels and ran out of the transfer room, the doors closing behind them.

  Lori leaned back and met his gaze. The dimple appeared in her cheek and her blue eyes sparkled. “Was that protocol, Commander? What does it say in your alien rule book about bossing other people around?”

  His face heated. “I broke protocol and I’m no longer a commander. I resigned.”

  Her gaze dropped and she played with the collar of his coat, tugging at the garment and smoothing the leather. “Because of me?”

  “Yes,” Trake confessed and her frown deepened. “You showed me that doing the right thing was more important than protocol.” He leaned his forehead against hers. “And for that, I will always be grateful. My family will always be grateful.”

  Her chin lifted and her eyes widened. “Oh.” He read the understanding in her face. “That’s okay then.” Trake brushed their noses together, savoring the texture of her skin and the connection between them, both corporeal and spiritual.

  Lori took a shaky breath, the aroma of her rising arousal filling Trake’s nostrils. “Don’t worry about losing your job.” She patted his shoulder. “Orogones eat, right? And if they eat, they must need someone to serve them. I doubt none of them are as demanding as Big Rig Gerry. I could—”

  Trake covered her moving lips with his index finger, reassured that his female didn’t care about his possible drop of status. “I’ll be taking another position, within this private transfer facility.” He plunked her ass down on the stretcher and wedged his hips between her thighs, spreading her legs.

  Lori blinked, her eyelashes fluttering on her pale skin. “I see.” He quickly stripped off his clothes, dropping his coat to the floor, ripping his shirt in two, the room’s recycled air cooling his heated body.

  Lori beamed at him, her face lighting up as bright as her planet’s single sun. “So it is your job to boss the other Orogones working here around.”

  “Not officially, not yet.” Trake grinned, having missed her quirky sense of humor. She made him feel happier, lighter, alive.

  She leaned into him and slid her soft palms down his chest, his ab muscles rippling in anticipation of her sweet touch. “Can I still call you Commander when we’re alone?” Her voice dropped huskily.

  “You can call me anything you want when we’re alone,” he promised. “I’m yours to do with as you wish.”

  “Are you?” She stuck out her small pink tongue, flicked his chin and he shuddered with pure ecstasy. Lori leisurely traced his jaw, deviating upward to follow the scar on his cheek. Trake groaned at her slow torment and he quickly unzipped his pants, shoved them down to his ankles. The flat of that teasing tongue swept over his marred tissue.

  “Yes, lick me, Lori.” Trake tilted his head, offering more of his skin to her exploration. She sucked on his cheekbone, pulling on his flesh, and his cock bobbed, wanting a turn in her hot mouth. “Fuck, that feels good.”

  She rested her palm over his tattoo and his soul beat vigorously against her fingers, striving to temporarily join with its twin, the soul placed in her keeping. “My tattoo is as happy to see you.” Lori covered her matching tattoo with his hand, the waves rising under his palm.

  “They yearn to reconnect,” Trake murmured, nipping her earlobe with his teeth. “To become whole once more.” He rubbed against her, sliding skin over fabric, the friction warming him. The connection wasn’t enough. Nothing less than everything was ever enough, not with his Lori, his One.

  “I must touch you.” He whipped the green blanket away from her body, removing that last barrier between them, releasing her decadent curves and her succulent softness. She feasted on him. He devoured her, nibbling, licking, sucking, alternating tastes of her shoulder, her neck and her mouth.

  Their lips met and she opened, welcoming him with a reassuring eagerness. His tongue tumbled, twined, danced with hers, in a preview of how their souls would join. She moaned, closing her eyes, and he bracketed her face with his hands, holding her to him as he sipped from her mouth.

  Their passions spiraled higher and she ground her pussy against his hard cock, soaking him with her juices, filling the air with her musk. He followed her undulations, sliding his hands down the slope of her back, surging forward as she retreated, maintaining full contact.

  Her head fell back, her brown
curls bouncing against her back. She panted softly, her mouth slightly opened, her breasts rising and falling, and Trake swiveled his hips, working his shaft over her wet folds, pulverizing her clit with his cock head.

  “Trake.” Lori stared into his exotic eyes, mesmerized by the blue flame dominating the black. She forgot the soreness in her bones and the disorientation of being on a strange planet, far from the world she knew. In his arms, she was fit. She was home.

  She linked her ankles behind him, her heels bouncing against his tight ass, the human form in which he’d chosen to meet her familiar, desired, and loved. As he loved her, his emotions layered on top of hers, strengthening them, evaporating all lingering doubts.

  “Fill me, Commander.” She leaned back and her hair swept over her spine in the softest caress. “Fill me with that big cock of yours. Join us.”

  “Yes,” her alien warrior rumbled, the sound swooping down inside her. He positioned his cock head at her entrance, his skin slick from her juices. “We’ll join. Be one.”

  He pushed in and she inhaled sharply, having forgotten how thick he was, how very male. Lori clung to his shoulders, tilting her hips upward to take him more easily, and their gazes met, his eyes hot and bright with a feral lust. He owned her, possessed her, branding her pussy with his cock, and she submitted, recognizing that claim.

  As her pussy lips pressed against his base, Trake drew her torso to his, his tattoo burning her breast with the most exquisite pain, her tattoo thumping against his chest, struggling to be free. Their trapped souls and pounding heartbeats synchronized with the pulsing in his cock and the throbbing in her pussy, finding one rhythm, one beat.

  Trake rocked into that beat and Lori rose up to meet him, the hospital stretcher creaking under her ass. “We’re fucking in the Orogone hospital.” She smiled at him. “This can’t be protocol.”

  “Fuck protocol,” he growled, his handsome face tight with strain.

  “I’d rather fuck my alien commander.” Lori sucked on his chin, feasting on his sweetness. He drove into her harder, deeper and she clasped his nape, stroking his short buzz cut with her index finger. A trickle of perspiration traveled the length of his scar and she licked his skin, scooping that sugar-laden liquid into her mouth, greedy for more of him.

  He angled his body to rub against her clit and she cried out, arching into him, the sensation toe-curling. “That’s it,” Lori purred her approval, riding his hips, her body pulsating in a wild, reckless beat. His thrusts grew savage, rocking the stretcher, and he grunted, his animal noises feeding her brash abandonment.

  “Trake,” she pleaded, her voice thin and high-pitched. Lori clutched at his shoulders, holding on, while passion ripped at her.

  “Come for me.” The blue flame engulfed Trake’s eyes as he dug his fingertips into her ass, his grip harsh and unforgiving. “Come now!” he demanded. He drove his hips forward, ramming his cock into her pussy, and roared, bathing her intimate flesh with hot cum.

  The physical and spiritual entities within her fragmented, rising in a rush of energy, and Lori screamed. Heat and red light burst from the tattoo on her chest, spinning around them faster and faster, entwining with his electric blue, binding their bodies in a fervent embrace.

  Lori shook, tossed in a whirlwind of pleasure, and Trake’s arms encircled her, securing her to him, his muscles solid and comforting against her curves, his hands calloused on her skin. She pressed her lips to his shoulder, grateful for his strength. He’d never let her fly away from him, her alien warrior. He’d fight to keep her.

  The flame in Trake’s eyes dimmed, calmed by the blackness, and the swirl of lights slowed, losing more and more of their vigor. Her breathing leveled, the pulsing stopped, and their souls returned, the red light retracting into Lori’s chest in a blaze of warmth.

  “You’re my One.” She sagged against Trake, blissfully exhausted.

  He chuckled, the sound low and deep and rare. “I love you, Lori.”

  About the Author

  Cynthia Sax lives in a world where demons aren’t all bad, angels aren’t all good and magic happens every single day. Although her heroes may not always say, “I love you”, they will do anything for the women they love. They live passionately. They fight fiercely. They love the same women forever.

  Cynthia has loved the same wonderful man forever. Her supportive hubby offers himself up to the joys and pains of research while they travel the world together, meeting fascinating people and finding inspiration in exotic places such as Istanbul, Bali and Chicago.

  Cynthia welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

  Tell Us What You Think

  We appreciate hearing reader opinions about our books. You can email us at Comments@EllorasCave.com.

  Also by Cynthia Sax

  Mission Menage

  Oh, Canada!: Lust by Moonbeam

  Ravished by Moonbeam

  Savage Menage

  Ellora’s Cave Publishing

  www.ellorascave.com

  Tattooed Tryst

  ISBN 9781419940385

  ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

  Tattooed Tryst Copyright © 2012 Cynthia Sax

  Edited by Briana St. James

  Cover design by Fiona Jade

  Photos: Aleksandr Petrunovskyi, Conrado/Shutterstock.com

  Electronic book publication July 2012

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