Draekon Mate: Exiled to the Prison Planet (A Sci-Fi Menage Romance) (Dragons in Exile Book 1)

by Lili Zander

  I see red. Our practice specializes in sex therapy, and Natalie is one of our best surrogates. We use her to help clients who are having issues with their sex lives.

  Unfortunately, surrogacy is still considered similar to sex work, and while Natalie’s husband knows what she does for a living, the couple would prefer that no one else does.

  Now Amy has outed Natalie to her family.

  “We should fire her,” I say flatly. “Amy knows how important confidentiality is. If she can’t respect the most basic rules of our profession…”

  Landon winces. He’s kinder than I am. “Give her a warning,” he says. “Tell her that she’s out of second chances.”

  I frown. “You do it then,” I tell him. “I’m too angry.”

  “Not a chance,” he says promptly. “She has a crush on me. She'd be more terrified if you yell at her.”

  “Fine.” Amy has to realize how important discretion is in our profession. Otherwise, she is going to get herself fired. Already George Bollington, the psychotherapist in town, is gunning for us. We don’t need any more hassle.

  My intercom buzzes just then. “Dr. Long? Dr. West?” Amy’s voice sounds in my office. “Your ten thirty appointment is here. Mia Gardner.”

  “Thanks Amy.” I put the phone on mute and grin at Landon. “I hope you’re ready to put your thinking cap on.”

  “New patient?” he asks. Landon and I see new patients together, at least until we have a treatment plan in place. ”Let’s go.”

  Landon:

  There’s only one word I can use to describe the woman who waits in my office. Hot.

  She’s in her mid-twenties. Her eyes glitter like green emeralds. Her hair is dark and lustrous, cascading in long, loose waves down her shoulders. Her body is the kind that a man dreams of, curvy and lush.

  Except she’s a prospective client, for fuck’s sake. And though Ben jokes that I’ll screw everything in a skirt, I have some boundaries. Clients are always off-limits.

  “Ms. Gardner,” I greet her with my most professional smile. “I’m Dr. West. This is Dr. Long. Please, sit down.”

  I wave toward the deep burgundy couch, and she perches on the very edge of it. Her fingers are clenched into fists, and she’s yet to say a word.

  “What brought you in today, Ms. Gardner?” Ben asks encouragingly.

  She bites her lower lip. My cock takes note of the way her teeth indent the flesh, and I stir in my armchair, trying discreetly to adjust myself. God, this is embarrassing. I’m a sex therapist. I’ve watched people get fucked in this office, and I’ve never yet had to fight off an erection.

  Fuck me. My dick hardens even further at the thought of seeing Mia Gardner naked.

  Okay. Focus, Landon. She’s here for help.

  “Ms. Gardner.” I lean forward. “It’s okay. You can tell us what the matter is. Everything you say in this office is confidential. We’re here to help.”

  She nods. “I have a problem,” she says, her face flushed. Her voice is barely a whisper. “I don’t think I enjoy sex.”

  “Why do you think that?” Ben asks her.

  Her eyes drop to her lap. “I never orgasm,” she mumbles. “My fiancé thought I was frigid.”

  She has a fiancé? I don’t know why that bothers me as much as it does.

  Ben is more helpful than I am. “It’s pretty common not to orgasm with a partner.”

  “It’s not just Dennis,” she confesses, her hands worrying the fabric of her skirt. “I’ve never been able to come with any partner.”

  “Couples sometimes fall into a rut,” I suggest. “They find it helpful to tell each other about their fantasies. Role play, kink. Whatever jolts you out of your rhythm.”

  Her face turns fiery. “Have you tried telling him what turns you on?” I continue.

  “What turns you on, Ms. Gardner?” Ben’s voice drops an octave, and his eyes glitter with heat. Whoa. Benjamin Long is interested in this girl too. Well, well.

  “It’s too embarrassing.” She can’t look at us.

  “If you don’t tell us, we can’t help you.”

  “I just can’t,” she wails.

  I have a brainwave, which is a miracle, given that most of my blood has pooled in my dick. “Sometimes, when our clients are having trouble relaxing, we use hypnosis.”

  “Good idea, Dr. West,” Ben says, giving me a sidelong look. He turns back to Mia. “Would you like to try that?”

  She bites her lower lip again. I can see her debate it in her head.

  “We record the session,” I assure her. “So you don’t have to worry about what you say.”

  She appears to reach a conclusion. “Yes,” she nods. “I really want to solve this problem of mine, and if that’s what it takes, let’s do it.”

  Ben’s the hypnotist. “Lie back on the couch,” he instructs Mia, while I set up the recorder.

  She gulps, but obeys. She stretches out on the red burgundy velvet, her skirt riding up to mid-thigh. Her skin looks creamy and soft and very touchable.

  “You have nothing to worry about,” Ben assures her. “Despite what you hear, we can’t make you do anything during hypnosis that you won’t do otherwise. It’s just to get you to calm down.”

  He looks deep in her eyes, the lucky dog. "Relax,” he says, his voice low and soothing. “Let your muscles sink into the couch.” He draws out his sentences, the syllables slow and smooth. “Breathe in. Fill your chest and lungs with air.”

  She complies, and her breasts strain against her shirt. I want to adjust myself but can’t. Until Mia goes under, sudden movements will startle her and pull her out of her trance.

  “Good,” Ben continues. “Now breathe out slowly. Empty your lungs.”

  After several steadying breaths, Ben proceeds to the next step. Despite what you see in pop culture, you don’t need a swinging watch to hypnotize someone. Just a focal object.

  Unfortunately, Ben picks me. “I want you to look at Dr. West’s face,” he instructs. “Focus on him. Don’t move your eyes away from Landon, Mia.”

  Her pretty green eyes meet mine. There’s a hint of nervousness there, but as Ben goes through each step, it disappears. After five minutes of slow, patient encouragement, her eyes grow heavy, and her breathing evens out.

  Ben nods at me. She’s good to go.

  “We were talking about sex, Mia,” I say. “Tell us what you want.”

  “Dennis was tentative,” she murmurs, her voice soft. “Sometimes, I wanted him to take charge.”

  “Take charge how?”

  She hesitates. “I wanted him to push me against a wall,” she whispers. “Pull my hands above my head and hold them in place. I wanted him to be forceful. I wanted to be taken.”

  Stay calm, Landon.

  “What else?” My voice is strained. “What do you fantasize about?”

  “I want to be spanked,” she replies. “I want to be dragged over a man’s lap.” Her expression turns dreamy. “He’ll pull my panties down, and he’ll order me to take my punishment like a good girl. And if I don’t obey, he’ll tie my wrists up so I can’t move.”

  Oh my fucking God.

  Even hypnotized, her cheeks go pink. “Then, once the spanking is over, he’ll push me down on my knees, and he’ll thrust his cock into my mouth.”

  Ben makes a strangled noise in his throat. Thankfully, it doesn’t stop Mia Gardner, because she keeps talking. “Sometimes,” she whispers, “I even dream about more than one cock. One in my pussy, one in my ass. Taking me hard.”

  This girl will be the death of us. Her fantasies are dirty and kinky, and I want to fulfill them.

  She’s a prospective client, asswipe. Keep your dick in your pants.

  Ben’s heard enough. He pulls Mia Gardner out of her hypnotic trance. When she’s sitting on the couch again, her back straight, her hands clenched in her lap, he continues gently. “Do you remember what you told us you want?” he asks her.

  She shakes her head.

  I swal
low. Mia is an irresistible combination of good-girl on the outside, and hot kinky vixen when her inhibitions are down. Following procedure, I copy the recording on a flash drive and give it to her. “If you want to listen to it later,” I say in explanation.

  Ben takes a deep breath to steady himself. “It sounds like you want to spice up your sex life,” he says. “Perhaps your orgasm problems are tied to that. Have you tried talking to your fiancé?”

  Her fiancé. What a douchebag that guy must be. If I had a woman like Mia in my bed, I’d make damn sure I please her.

  Ben says tied, and I think of Mia stretched out on the couch, her arms above her head, bound together with a tie. Not mine; I never wear one. Ben’s tie would work nicely, though.

  “I can’t. We broke up.”

  An unexpected surge of triumph runs through my blood. Yes. She’s single. Tell me more about your fantasies, I want to urge. Ben and I have shared women in the past. We haven’t done something like that in a long time, but for this woman, I’ll be happy to make an exception.

  “We have some other options,” Ben says. “If you’d like, we can explore using sexual surrogates to help you climax during sex.”

  She sits up. “A surrogate? You mean someone will have sex with me while you watch?”

  “We’re trained professionals,” I reply. “I know it sounds awkward, but it isn’t as bad as it sounds.”

  She jumps to her feet, her palms pressed against her cheeks. “I can’t,” she says, her eyes wild. “What was I thinking? Oh my God, I need to get out of here.”

  She rushes out of my office. I stare after her retreating back. “Well, that went well,” Ben mutters. “Now I get to go and yell at Amy. What a fucking day.”

  Start reading Dirty Therapy, book 1 of the Dirty Series today! Each book is a standalone MFM menage romance with a guaranteed HEA!

  Dirty Therapy | Dirty Talk | Dirty Games | Dirty Words

  A Preview of Sold to the Berserkers by Lee Savino

  CHAPTER ONE

  The day my stepfather sold me to the Berserkers, I woke at dawn with him leering over me. “Get up.” He made to kick me and I scrambled out of my sleep stupor to my feet.

  “I need your help with a delivery.”

  I nodded and glanced at my sleeping mother and siblings. I didn’t trust my stepfather around my three younger sisters, but if I was gone with him all day, they’d be safe. I’d taken to carrying a dirk myself. I did not dare kill him; we needed him for food and shelter, but if he attacked me again, I would fight.

  My mother’s second husband hated me, ever since the last time he’d tried to take me and I had fought back. My mother was gone to market, and when he tried to grab me, something in me snapped. I would not let him touch me again. I fought, kicking and scratching, and finally grabbing an iron pot and scalding him with heated water.

  He bellowed and looked as if he wanted to hurt me, but kept his distance. When my mother returned he pretended like nothing was wrong, but his eyes followed me with hatred and cunning.

  Out loud he called me ugly and mocking the scar that marred my neck since a wild dog attacked me when I was young. I ignored this and kept my distance. I’d heard the taunts about my hideous face since the wounds had healed into scars, a mass of silver tissue at my neck.

  That morning, I wrapped a scarf over my hair and scarred neck and followed my stepfather, carrying his wares down the old road. At first I thought we were headed to the great market, but when we reached the fork in the road and he went an unfamiliar way, I hesitated. Something wasn’t right.

  “This way, cur.” He’d taken to calling me “dog”. He’d taunted me, saying the only sounds I could make were grunts like a beast, so I might as well be one. He was right. The attack had taken my voice by damaging my throat.

  If I followed him into the forest and he tried to kill me, I wouldn’t even be able to cry out.

  “There’s a rich man who asked for his wares delivered to his door.” He marched on without a backward glance and I followed.

  I had lived all my life in the kingdom of Alba, but when my father died and my mother remarried, we moved to my stepfather’s village in the highlands, at the foot of the great, forbidding mountains. There were stories of evil that lived in the dark crevices of the heights, but I’d never believed them.

  I knew enough monsters living in plain sight.

  The longer we walked, the lower the sun sank in the sky, the more I knew my stepfather was trying to trick me, that there was no rich man waiting for these wares.

  When the path curved, and my stepfather stepped out from behind a boulder to surprise me, I was half ready, but before I could reach for my dirk he struck me so hard I fell.

  I woke tied to a tree.

  The light was lower, heralding dusk. I struggled silently, frantic gasps escaping from my scarred throat. My stepfather stepped into view and I felt a second of relief at a familiar face, before remembering the evil this man had wrought on my body. Whatever he was planning, it would bode ill for me, and my younger sisters. If I didn’t survive, they would eventually share the same fate as mine.

  “You’re awake,” he said. “Just in time for the sale.”

  I strained but my bonds held fast. As my stepfather approached, I realized that the scarf that I wrapped around my neck to hide my scars had fallen, exposing them. Out of habit, I twitched my head to the side, tucking my bad side towards my shoulder.

  My stepfather smirked.

  “So ugly,” he sneered. “I could never find a husband for you, but I found someone to take you. A group of warriors passing through who saw you, and want to slake their lust on your body. Who knows, if you please them, they may let you live. But I doubt you’ll survive these men. They’re foreigners, mercenaries, come to fight for the king. Berserkers. If you’re lucky your death will be swift when they tear you apart.”

  I’d heard the tales of berserker warriors, fearsome warriors of old. Ageless, timeless, they’d sailed over the seas to the land, plundering, killing, taking slaves, they fought for our kings, and their own. Nothing could stand in their path when they went into a killing rage.

  I fought to keep my fear off my face. Berserker's were a myth, so my stepfather had probably sold me to a band of passing soldiers who would take their pleasure from my flesh before leaving me for dead, or selling me on.

  “I could’ve sold you long ago, if I stripped you bare and put a bag over you head to hide those scars.”

  His hands pawed at me, and I shied away from his disgusting breath. He slapped me, then tore at my braid, letting my hair spill over my face and shoulders.

  Bound as I was, I still could glare at him. I could do nothing to stop the sale, but I hoped my fierce expression told him I’d fight to the death if he tried to force himself on me.

  His hand started to wander down towards my breast when a shadow moved on the edge of the clearing. It caught my eye and I startled. My stepfather stepped back as the warriors poured from the trees.

  My first thought was that they were not men, but beasts. They prowled forward, dark shapes almost one with the shadows. A few wore animal pelts and held back, lurking on the edge of the woods. Two came forward, wearing the garb of warriors, bristling with weapons. One had dark hair, and the other long, dirty blond with a beard to match.

  Their eyes glowed with a terrifying light.

  As they approached, the smell of raw meat and blood wafted over us, and my stomach twisted. I was glad my stepfather hadn’t fed me all day, or I would’ve emptied my guts on the ground.

  My stepfather’s face and tone took on the wheedling expression I’d seen when he was selling in the market.

  “Good evening, sirs,” he cringed before the largest, the blond with hair streaming down his chest.

  They were perfectly silent, but the blond approached, fixing me with strange golden eyes.

  Their faces were fair enough, but their hulking forms and the quick, light way they moved made me catch my breath. I had nev
er seen such massive men. Beside them, my stepfather looked like an ugly dwarf.

  “This is the one you wanted,” my stepfather continued. “She’s healthy and strong. She will be a good slave for you.”

  My body would’ve shaken with terror, if I were not bound so tightly.

  A dark haired warrior stepped up beside the blond and the two exchanged a look.

  “You asked for the one with scars.” My stepfather took my hair and jerked my head back, exposing the horrible, silvery mass. I shut my eyes, tears squeezing out at the sudden pain and humiliation.

  The next thing I knew, my stepfather’s grip loosened. A grunt, and I opened my eyes to see the dark haired warrior standing at my side. My stepfather sprawled on the ground as if he’d been pushed.

  The blond leader prodded a boot into my stepfather’s side.

  “Get up,” the blond said, in a voice that was more a growl than a human sound. It curdled my blood. My stepfather scrambled to his feet.

  The black haired man cut away the last of my bonds, and I sagged forward. I would’ve fallen but he caught me easily and set me on my feet, keeping his arms around me. I was not the smallest woman, but he was a giant. Muscles bulged in his arms and chest, but he held me carefully. I stared at him, taking in his raven dark hair and strange gold eyes.

  He tucked me closer to his muscled body.

  Meanwhile, my stepfather whined. “I just wanted to show you the scars—”

  Again that frightening growl from the blond. “You don’t touch what is ours.”

  “I don’t want to touch her.” My stepfather spat.

  Despite myself, I cowered against the man who held me. A stranger I had never met, he was still a safer haven than my stepfather.

  “I only wish to make sure you are satisfied, milords. Do you want to sample her?” my stepfather asked in an evil tone. He wanted to see me torn apart.

  A growl rumbled under my ear and I lifted my head. Who were these men, these great warriors who had bought and paid for me? The arms around my body were strong and solid, inescapable, but the gold eyes looking down at me were kind. The warrior ran his thumb across the pad of my lips, and his fingers were gentle for such a large, violent looking warrior. Under the scent of blood, he smelled of snow and sharp cold, a clean scent.