Won by an Alien (Stolen by an Alien Book 3)

by Amanda Milo

  Then he disappears.

  Everything but his horns, anyway. My wrist jerks, and I’m towed forward as he stretches his hands under the bed. I hear the slide of something heavy against the tile. I peer over the side to see him carefully opening… a short wooden trunk.

  It looks old.

  It looks very… pretty. With curling details, and carved designs that look like scary animals. And the whole thing is covered with a glittery varnish. Glittery. These scary animals are probably the alien version of cuddly Lisa Frank art.

  Then I spy something. “Are those my shoes? Hey! Those are the markers Tac needed! And why do you have a spatula? ...And a spoon…My spoon.”

  Tac couldn’t figure out where it went. Brax always seems to know though. It’s not a magical ability to find things, it’s a magic trick. He’s been card flourishing with a spoon, the crazy sneak!

  The odd contents take his concentration as he frantically digs for something. He lifts out an item in triumph a moment later and, boon secured, he returns the chest of stolen booty to its resting place.

  I don’t expect it when he zealously rips out a string of very wide squares.

  He’s clutching the box, searching frantically along the package, eyes scanning back and forth rapidly like he’s reading. Then he peers closer, and smoke blocks my view of him for a second before he inhales it with his mouth, turns his head, and blows it to the side.

  I convulse with a single, choked laugh.

  Brax’s expression loses a little of its wildness. And he tilts his head, side-eye studying me before he blows a dark smoke ring, and puffs a dart through it.

  It’s so cool I want to clap, so I do.

  And instantly, his shoulders relax a fraction. He extends his hand, showing me what he’s so proud of, and I feel my lip curl up in amusement. These foil packs look like a lot like—

  He rips one open with his sharp teeth.

  And I stop laughing. Brax is holding a round, sparkly alien version of a Latex condom.

  “No sehhx,” he declares, wagging it like, ‘Aha! No sperm, no problem!’ And his free hand goes to his suit and the sound of his snaps unfastening over his fly have me mentally falling down a flight of stairs.

  Wait—

  What!

  We’re—

  He thinks I don’t want to get pregnant with an alien baby—and he’s right, but I also…

  I pause as I consider the fact that this is my main concern. My other one was him hurting me. I’d have had sex with Tac yesterday if we’d had condoms because I trust Tac to listen to me even if he can’t understand me.

  And… now that I know Brax will stop if I need him to stop, I… he’s got nice hands, and I did appreciate his Ladies First approach-philosophy, even if I’m not down with him going down. So…

  My attention is stolen when Brax grabs and pulls out his huge cock, giving it a rather violent tug. It’s huge—but it’s… normal.

  After seeing Tac’s, Brax’s dick looks… pretty normal.

  Except for the tomato red glans and white stripes-on-orange colored shaft.

  Except for that.

  Thanks to our cord, it looks as if I’m desperate to reach him when Brax carefully pinches the middle of the condom, claws kept out of the way, and studiously begins the task of rolling it on. Then he spits on his hand—not a little, a lot—and begins coating his wrapped shaft.

  His magic spit-slime will be inside of me.

  I full-body shiver.

  Brax pauses, concerned at first, then looks pleased at my heavy-lidded expression.

  And, thinking I’ll ride his leg or those abdominals until I’m ready, I take a deep breath, and beckon him forward with a pat to the mattress.

  He smirks.

  I purse my lips, confused.

  And he swaggers forward, his heavy cock bobbing, and he pats the bed.

  His hand steals around my nape and my face meets the mattress. He presses me down, wrapping the excess tether around his forearm to tighten our connection before he captures both my wrists with his other hand and I tense up—

  And he kisses my butt.

  He slides his face across my backside, my skirt dragging back and forth as he rubs. He lets up only to blow his hot breath under my skirt and this should not feel as incredible as it does.

  This is the weirdest foreplay I’ve ever had and I don’t know why it’s working for me but…it is.

  And then the bed depresses as he brings a knee on the outside of mine, and the heat and the weight of him is suddenly over my back as he leans down to check my face. The last thing I expect is his soft, “Stohp?”

  I have to blink fast because, yes, he is an alien, but him pausing to ask me in our limited word exchange if I’m still game just put him in the running for the most thoughtful lover I’ve ever had.

  Tac being the other one. Tac who pet my hair, kissed me, and left me with Brax. I saw the look they shared. Tac gave consent to this, and he wasn’t begrudging at all.

  I lick my lips, not ready to dwell on having not one, but two alien partners. Because I…Heaven help me but I’m attracted to BRAX. At this moment, I have two alien partners.

  I feel my hands go free as Brax starts to rise.

  “No,” I blurt, and twist until I can see him. His nostrils flare and his ears swivel forward. “No stop,” I explain. “Let’s do this.”

  He knows what this last phrase means. I’ve used it when we tackle a cleaning project together.

  A teasing knuckle grazing along my slit is not what I expect and my fingers spread out in reaction as I melt into the mattress a little. When he finds my clit through my panties, and uses this knuckle to slowly test me, brushing back and forth, my hips rise and a low moan works its way up my throat.

  He stops.

  I sway my hips to send the message we’re still on. And I enjoy how it feels to rub myself across him.

  He must too, because he adds a little pressure—but stays still. Letting me take the lead. I start working my hips, rolling and bouncing as he shifts to give me the flat side of knuckle, and it is so much hotter than I would’ve thought it would be when he licks at the bared section of my cheek, running his tongue along my pantyline.

  Until he hooks his claws under the band at my waist and jerks them down my thighs.

  Then, his knuckle returning to tease me where I need it, he sets his teeth on my butt.

  He’s careful not to bite down but the thrill of it sends me over the edge and I cry out, stiffening momentarily before I’m racked with a glorious, full body tremoring.

  Brax clamps his hands over my hips, jerks my butt up higher in the air, and mounts me.

  The head of his shaft spears me, slicked and hot and hard.

  I let out a surprised squeak.

  I just squeaked!

  But that first penetration. Unnff!

  Brax grunts and thrusts forward, attempting to work himself in deeper. And I can feel him lean back, and hear his groan, and I finally regain the willpower to lift my head, and I see that he’s watching us, watching himself pull out and disappear, nudge by nudge.

  My inner walls grip tightly around him and fully enjoy his delightfully torturous slide and pull. In reaction, his pumping hips gain speed and I’m ready to combust when he unerringly hits that pleasure point inside of me—again, and again, and ag—

  “Brax!” I wail into a mouthful of pillow as the tension releases in an orgasm so explosive that all the muscles in my arms and legs start shaking like I’ve got palsy. His cock bucks and his weight crushes down on me deliciously as he moves to cage me in his arms, his chest over my back, his hand landing a heavy grip at the base of my throat, and he’s moving like a man out of control, his thrusts gaining speed until his hips shove into mine—and hold.

  He roars.

  Fuck! This’s hot.

  Ears ringing, I also realize, this is really loud. I was polite enough to muffle myself.

  Tac.

  He’d have to be outside this ship not to
have heard. I get that I had Tac’s permission, but still. The last thing I want to do is rub this in his face.

  Brax deals with the condom before he lands with a crash next to me, and I’m a little amused to watch him trying to relearn how to swallow. And breathe. He looks like a giant African animal that’s working to shake off a tranquilizer dart.

  An animal that, struggling or not, drags me into him so that he can unsteadily attempt to brush my hair out of my eyes before he covers my face in possessive laps of his tongue.

  “You’re strange, Brax,” I manage to get out, my lips sucked over my teeth as I squeeze my eyes shut and wait for him to calm down.

  In answer, his tail lets go of my ankle and makes its way to the hems of my shirts where it burrows under, and softly strokes my ribs.

  Strange, but in your own way… kind of sweet.

  He moves in to kiss me on the lips, but instead of letting me take the lead like Tac does, Brax moves his mouth over mine at the same time I’m turning my—

  Our teeth clack together. Or, more accurately, his fangs do the enamel-dance against mine.

  “Owwww,” I mumble, my lips squeezed between us, his fingers pressed into my cheeks as he grips my face. “You jerk. Someday, you’re going to learn you don’t get to control everything.”

  In answer, he lets my face go, and bumps his nose into mine before whispering, “Wrrrong.”

  CHAPTER 54

  TARA

  This is a problem I never expected to have in life.

  No, not the alien next to me in bed—though gotta say: didn’t expect this either, and he is a pain if not a problem—but no, I mean this is the first time in my life when I’ve been impatient for a guy to fall asleep after sex.

  Brax is fighting it hard: sleepily stroking me, just little brushes of this fingertips. Like he can’t believe I’m really here, or really this soft, or really this freckled, I’m not sure. But I like it.

  Too much.

  I actually don’t regret having sex with an alien. I don’t regret having the best sex of my life with an alien (there’s a thing I never expected to say—goes perfectly with never expecting to have sex with an alien in the first place, too). The problem is my feelings: I have them. I have feelings for Brax.

  I have feelings for Tac.

  And I’m not staying.

  I need them to know this. I need them to know why. And I. Need. Their. Help.

  That’s a problem for another minute. Right now, I need Brax unconscious, and I need to find Tac.

  The way Tac looked at me before he left: he gave me permission. And I felt super uncomfortable until I realized that neither of them were acting surprised about Brax’s proposal to… share me. Maybe this is how it’s done. Women are shared. Makes as much sense as anything here makes sense to me.

  I let out a silent heavy breath. I dart a glance up and see Brax’s eyes are below half-mast and are working their way towards fully shut. But he’s rubbing my hair between his fingers admiringly, like Scrooge McDuck with a gold coin.

  I know if I so much as shift, his focus will snap back to me. He notices things, and Brax has watched me from the first day I stepped onto this ship.

  Right when I’m contemplating my odds for finding something heavy enough to clonk him with, he finally drifts off. I extricate myself with utmost care; Brax is a major cuddler. Who’da thunk it? And it’s with a careful reach that I make a grab for the—

  I squeeze my eyes shut and make a face.

  Alien condoms.

  This is soooo weird.

  I step away—and silently yip in panic when a tug on my scalp signals he still has my hair! The laser dance the thief had to do in Ocean’s Twelve has nothing on the moves I have to bust out in order to get my hair free without disturbing this beast’s slumber. And the leather cuff! I mouth curses at him as I also have to sneak his metal cuff on, and only one because his other wrist is hidden under the pillow I substituted in place of myself.

  This alien is hell-bent on keeping me with him. Thank heavens that I was able to work his tail into curling onto his arm earlier or I’d still be attached to him.

  I gasp in relief when I make it outside of the room. As I head for Tac, I know the moment Brax wakes up. The whole ship knows the moment Brax wakes up. He’s that loud. The itty bitty bright news in this? Tac knows I’m on my way.

  A stream of rich notes thrums from him before he breaks into his welcoming, almost laugh-like call.

  My anxiety is vanquished by half.

  He bounds to meet me and my original plan was to go hunt up Lem so I could wash up first, but besides his nose wrinkling slightly, Tac doesn’t actually ever hesitate. He opens his arms, and catches me.

  CHAPTER 55

  TAC’MOT

  Sharing a female is a fact of life for many species. They manage, and I will too. I’m even getting used to the moisturizing quality of Brax’s leftover musk streaks whenever he scentmarks and licks her. As I embrace her now, I demonstrate that I embrace this trio we now have by rubbing it into my skin.

  With a considering tip of my head, I wonder if perhaps Brax might even be less aggressive if I smell like him.

  Part of me internally bounces. There’s a chance.

  The other is more cynical. Don’t hold your cheep.

  She wants to take me to our quarters and I am forced to deny her—this gorgeous, willing, and even insistent female, my female, my mate—I have to tell her no, and in a stilted, broken manner, try to relay how badly I want to follow her, but the auto watering system exploded in the hopper unit and we’re losing her food.

  I need to salvage what hoppers I can, freeze-dry and grind the dead, and hope the survivors recover enough to breed.

  Tara looks sad that I have emergency work to do.

  Veetling, you have no idea how sad I am too.

  And as much as I’d love to have her with me, I can’t have her witness me use a net to scoop drowned hoppers out of their flooded tubs, and drop them in the cryodesiccator. If she doesn’t recognize their legs, she’ll recognize the jars that the dried and ground powder is vacuum stored in. Even if knowing where her food came from wasn’t an issue for her, right now, with the smell of soaked hopper carcasses in my nostrils, even I have lost my appetite for them, and I wasn’t food-persnickety to begin with.

  She is making such an effort to follow after me however, that for once, I’m actually glad I have Brax to send her off to. I give her a tight hug and have to remuster my resolve when she runs a fingertip over one of my ears. “I cannot believe I’m saying this but, go be with Brax, Tara. For now.”

  ***

  The ceiling fans are softly working to pull suspended carbon from the air, I gather as I take note of the slight fogginess in the room. I give Brax a meaningful look.

  A look he ignores in favor of eyeing Tara.

  Tara who is happy to see me when she wakes up enough to realize I’m crawling into bed next to her.

  “My side of the bed is unnaturally warm,” I offer up. “Isn’t that interesting.”

  Brax grunts.

  Tara though, is ecstatic. After she brushes her hand along my chest, she senses the heat of the covers under her arm. “Ooooh, wahrm!”

  And then she sidles against me, threading an arm under mine and diving her feet under my legs in angles that don’t appear entirely comfortable, but you wouldn’t know it by the moan she releases. “Eye weeel meees yoo.”

  Abruptly, her body surfs across the surface of the bed.

  She lets out a whine at the loss of me.

  Or at the loss of the heat we were happily sharing together. I adore this female, but she has major circulatory issues and her priorities heavily revolve around this aspect.

  Warm blankets or my chest, regardless of what she’s most miffed about losing, the fact is she is not pleased to be parted.

  I can feel one side of my cirri rise and spread. My lips tip up in a sardonic smile. “That…backfired,” I tell Brax.

  His answer to this is
to build a growl in his nasal crest. To her though, he waits until he catches her eyes, and he tries to repeat her phrase. “Eye weeel meeees yooo.”

  Tara sucks in a breath.

  Before she can reject what we’re obviously both (mostly) certain is a declaration of love in her tongue, Brax smothers her in the top blanket, plants a hand on her to prevent her from peeling it off, and he lights up the spot between them with fire, heating the covers to the toasty temperature this Gryfala appreciates.

  “Clever way to clean my scent from your bed, by the way.”

  “I thought so.”

  He doesn’t spare me a look. He uncovers a spluttering Tara, smoothes the blanket down between them, and drags her onto the heated spot.

  “Ohhhh!” she yelps in surprise. Then she whips her head over her shoulder to look at the warm spot I’m laying on as she considers the implication. Slowly, she turns a glare on Brax.

  Unrepentant, he shrugs and plants a giant hand between her shoulders, forcing her to squish against his chest. “Sleep, veetling.”

  But she shoves away from him to plant herself very deliberately between us, glaring Brax down when he looks about to reach for her again. She grumbles and curses, “Kant cherr!” at him as she adjusts into a comfortable position. By herself. Brax’s hands clench and rise towards her again only to draw back at another withering glance.

  Instead, he moves to covetously snare a lock of her mane, and brings it over to his side. Tara makes a sound of disbelief and we can only both watch him now as he slowly collects another lock and also moves it to his side of the bed. And another. She lets him gently comb his claws through her mane until he has all the strands he can… reasonably…collect. Seemingly content now, he sighs.

  Tara swallows and I raise up on my elbow so that I can watch her face. She’s pressing her lips together, letting her eyes go wide, and it seems she’s having a conversation with herself. She takes a deep breath, and slowly lets her head fall back onto…

  Brax’s hand.

  Abruptly, she sits up, and Brax makes a nasal-crested reverberating sound of dismay as her carefully arranged mane escapes his captivity. “Ware ees myy peelow?”