Alien Alphas: Twenty-Three Naughty Sci-Fi Romance Novellas

by Grace Goodwin

  Nash.

  Dravven’s younger brother sauntered into the room, his dark eyes roving over her as he approached. The Graeme men all seemed to have the same stern countenance, but Nash’s had a bit of mischief and sadism. He delighted in making those around him uncomfortable, and if an opportunity arose to humiliate someone, he’d never ignore the impulse. His sense of humor leaned toward dark and twisty, but she enjoyed the fact that he could make her laugh, and as much as she enjoyed that about her brother-in-law it seemed to annoy the piss out of Dravven. The brothers had an obvious competitive undercurrent, and Sable did her best to avoid any interactions with Nash, especially if Dravven was nearby.

  “Why aren’t you inspecting test results with my dear brother?”

  “Why aren’t you doing—” Sable waved her hand in the air, “—whatever it is you do all day?”

  His eyebrow shot up, his eyes widening a bit. “Oh, so we’re going to be sassy and petulant, are we? I’ll play along.” Nash pulled on his pant legs before sitting in a chair near Sable, and he crossed one of his long, muscular legs over the other, folding his hands in his lap.

  He stared at her for a moment, tilting his head to read the binding of the book in her hand and leaned over to take it from her. Thumbing through the pages, he briefly looked at the pages before closing the cover and carelessly abandoning it on the round mahogany table between them.

  “I’ve heard from the staff that you and my brother haven’t consummated your marriage yet.” He cleared his throat, watching her reaction before continuing. “However, we’ve all heard the shouts of ecstasy from both of you... are you not happy with Dravven, dear?”

  They hadn’t gone as far as actual copulation, but what business was it of theirs? How do the staff know the intimate details of our relationship?

  “Nash, this isn’t a conversation for you and me, and to be perfectly honest, it’s none of your fucking business either.” Her face flushed and immediate concern for swearing rose, her heart beating within her chest. Dravven had made this rule for her after becoming weary with her tirades, and he had told all the staff and family to report any infractions to him. The punishments for swearing had been brutal, and she wasn’t even sure why he cared, after all, he swore... most of the men on Gralon swore.

  “Oh, are you reverting to your old ways of swearing, girl? I would have thought my brother would have driven that vile behavior from you, but it is best cast out with a rod of correction and, sadly, he seems to prefer his hand. If you were mine, Princess, you’d be caned—often.” His long fingers picked at his pants, pulling at imaginary flecks of lint or thread.

  “Thankfully, I don’t belong to you, and if I may be so bold, it may be the sole reason you’re alone, Nash. Your harsh and sadistic ways have probably been discussed among the Gralon women. You may wish to mend your ways.”

  He smiled dangerously, and although the corners of his eyes crinkled, his lips thinning bespoke of his anger at her comment. His finger tilted her chin up. “You need your ass whipped, and you better hope that I’m never given an opportunity because I’ll whip you raw, brat. As for the women of Gralon—they’re not like the women of Draenor. The women here actually seek strong and harsh men, their submissive spirits desiring harsh discipline. The trouble is—although I like a quiet spirit, I appreciate a bit of sass and independence, which is hard to find on our planet.”

  “Isn’t that what the men of Gralon strive for? They spend many hours, days, and weeks to groom their women to be timid.”

  Nodding in agreement, Nash continued, “Yes. We do. But there are some of us that appreciate intelligence and independence. Dravven is one of those, and so am I. But no worries, Sable, I hear that your family is visiting soon. I’ll be inquiring about your sister Imperia.”

  Her heart skipped a beat, and her breath caught in her chest.

  Imperia? My sister?

  “You can’t. I mean... why would you want to? I won’t allow it.”

  Nash leaned his head on the back of the chair, his dark hair gleaming blue in the light, his dark eyes twinkling with misconduct. “Oh, Sable. See... that’s where you’re wrong. Neither Dravven nor you have a say in this matter. It’ll be up to my father and me, and well, on some level, your father.”

  Sable knew what he said was the way of it on Gralon; she was no longer on Draenor. Women had no say in the formal decision-making; the men may listen to their opinions, but the final decisions rested with the men, and the women agreed either wholeheartedly or reluctantly. It made no difference to the men. But Nash had seen firsthand the difficulty Dravven had received by taking Sable in, he heard the disciplinary sessions and had even been on the receiving end of her temper tantrums. Why? Why would he want a woman like this... a Draenor woman was nothing like a Gralon woman.

  “I can see by your face that the gravity of your situation has dawned on you. I’ll be asking about Imperia and may find myself fucking a sassy submissive of my own soon. Hopefully, my dear brother will decide to fuck you soon as well.”

  Leaping out of her chair, she crossed the short distance between them and slapped his face; the sound echoed in the small room, a pink bloom rising on his cheek immediately.

  Snatching her wrist in his huge hand, he rose, growling through gritted teeth, “You’ll pay for that, Sable, trust me.”

  The door flung open, bouncing off the wall, and a large and angry Dravven stalked across the room barking loudly, “Unhand my wife, Nash. You have no business being alone with her, and you have no right to restrain her.”

  “I beg to differ, Dravven.” Bending a little, Nash looked her in the eye, a fiendish smile playing on his lips. “Shall I tell him, Sable dear, or will you?”

  She didn’t want to answer... couldn’t answer.

  Nash shook his head in disgust at Sable. “I’m disappointed. I would have thought you of all people would have the courage to own up to your actions.” Clearing his throat, placing his hands on his hips, Nash gave his brother a concise summation of their discussion. “I had informed your wife that her family would be visiting soon and that I’d be inquiring about her sister, Imperia, in the hopes of making her my wife. I ended our little discussion by informing her that maybe I’d be fucking a sassy submissive of my own soon and that hopefully you, my dear brother, would be fucking your own wife soon since the staff are gossiping shamelessly that you two haven’t made your marriage legal. Is that so, Dravven?”

  “Get. Out. Now!” Dravven roared, pointing toward the door.

  Sable pressed herself into the corner of her chair, shaking in fear. She thought she had seen Dravven at his worst, but this confirmed that there was a definite deeper and darker side of the alien, and apparently, his brother brought it out.

  Halfway through the door as he exited the library, Nash peeped his head around the corner and said, “By the way, brother, your girl is swearing again. I believe saying fuck is against your rules. Just saying.” Nash shut the door behind him, the snick of the latch sounding more like the clang of prison cell doors shutting than the wooden door.

  “Is that true?”

  “Yes, Sir. He said that the staff are gossiping that we haven’t consummated our marriage but that they’ve heard us shouting in ecstasy and he wanted to know if it was true. I told him it was none of his fucking business. I’m sorry.” Tears filled her eyes, and he blurred.

  He stood silently, his nostrils still flaring in anger. “Don’t apologize. You did the right thing.”

  What did he say?

  “You’re adorable when your eyebrows furrow like that. You heard me. I’ll not punish you for saying the right thing. It’s none of my brother’s business, and Nash needed to hear it. But... why was he holding your arm?”

  The anger was still present, but there was something else present. Was it jealousy? Was Dravven jealous of his brother?

  “I... he said... Nash said he’d fuck my sister and he hoped you would fuck me as well. So I-I slapped him.” She wrung her fingers in her lap, u
nsure and not wanting to meet his gaze.

  “Stand.”

  Oh, no.

  Sable stood, feeling more exposed with her short dress on, which barely covered her ass, than if she had worn a pair of pants today. Dravven enjoyed the magenta pink dress, and she had wanted to please him this morning when she put it on. Now, she wished she had put on a pair of thick pants. She’d even worn her heavy white socks that went over the knee, another of his favorites. But now, standing before him having hit his brother and swore—she felt unprotected.

  “Take your panties off.”

  She shifted from one foot to the other, clenching her buttocks. Immediate obedience is best. Sliding her shaky hands up under her skirt, she hooked her fingers into the leg openings and tugged the thin white material down her thighs, resting the underwear on her knees, and she waited for further instruction.

  “Let them fall, and hand them to me.”

  She gingerly stepped out of the panties. Picking them up by the elastic with one finger, she then dangled the remnant of her protection to her punisher.

  Dravven took the garment, and pressing it to his nose, he inhaled deeply before pocketing it.

  “Come here, Sable.”

  She had learned to trust him, even in punishment. Although it may sting and hurt more than she thought she could bear, Dravven never failed to forgive her and cuddle with her afterward, rocking her to sleep and staying with her so upon waking she wouldn’t doubt that he’d held and watched over her, caring for her.

  So, with heavy feet, she shuffled over to him, murmuring, “I’m sorry, Sir.”

  “You’re a good girl, Sable.” Pulling her to his chest, he enveloped her in a hug. “My brother is vile and loves nothing more than to stir up trouble. You pay him no mind. As for the staff, my mother and father will deal with their gossip. We’ll not have you or your reputation sullied by the idiocy of moronic service workers. I’ll also have Father discuss with Nash the treatment of my wife and her family.” He stroked her back, and she felt her concerns about Nash fade... for now.

  “Dravven?” She pulled away to look at him, watching his eyebrows furrow.

  “How do you address me?”

  “Sir. I’m sorry. Sir, can we... isn’t it time we consummated our marriage?” Sable traced her finger along the seam of his silver and teal robe, the Graeme colors, trying to distract herself from fearing his rejection.

  Maybe he doesn’t wish to fuck me. Maybe he’s biding his time until he returns me to Draenor.

  “That’s my girl. I’ve been waiting for you to decide when the time was right. Many, many things have been forced upon you in the past three months, and this isn’t something for me to decide but for you. It is indeed time. We need to make this official... not for anyone but ourselves. I need to know that you have given yourself freely to me, that you’re... mine.”

  “I give myself to you—freely—Dravven. Can I swear, Sir?”

  The crease between his eyebrows deepened, and he tilted his head in confusion. “Yes.”

  “Fuck me, Sir.”

  “By the God of Aranah, I’ll fuck you now—and as often as it takes to keep you satisfied. For as long as you’ll have me, Sable.”

  * * *

  Dravven pulled Sable up, cupping each thigh with a hand, walking with her to his desk. With a sweep of his arm, he scattered everything on the desk. Laying her gently on the desk, he pushed her thighs to her chest.

  “Hold your legs up and open—I want that hot cunt spread for me.”

  He pulled his robe off, tossing it carelessly to the floor and he then quickly shoved his pants off as well, his hard cock pulsing and bobbing in front of him.

  Sable’s green eyes darkened, staring at his penis, and in reaction, her pink tongue licked her lips.

  Oh, in time she’d be sucking his cock, but right now? Right now he wanted to be up to the hilt within her.

  Dravven grabbed the hem of her dress, pulling it over her head, baring her completely. The rose-colored nipples were furled and tight; he drew the soft flesh into his mouth, squeezing its twin mercilessly.

  Sable’s back arched, and she moaned, lengthening her neck. “Fuck me.”

  Every time she said it he swore he almost came, and not wanting to chance losing control completely outside of her body, he pressed the tip of his cock to her entrance, shocked at the heat coming from her sex. He thrust into her, and with one push he was pressed as far as her body would allow.

  A soft gasp escaped, her eyes rolling in ecstasy, and she swiveled her hips, pushing into him, her cervix bouncing off the head of his cock.

  Pistoning himself into her, the silky walls of her sex squeezed him, and a growl emanated from his chest. Increasing the pace and strength with which he impaled her, he pounded into her faster and faster; keening, she dug her nails into his back, her ankles crossing over his buttocks and she screamed, tucking him so tightly into her that his balls ached. When she clenched him, screaming with her release, her juices gushing over him, he roared with his ejaculation, his semen spurting rope after rope into her.

  With every thrust into her, he said in his mind: Mine. Mine. Mine.

  They slid and ground slowly, relishing every last tremor, milking the last drop from each other until they collapsed in sated, sweaty bliss.

  Sable lightly kissed his neck and face, pushing sweat-laden hair from his brow. “That was nice, Dravven.”

  “What do you call me?”

  “Sorry, Sir. It was nice... more than nice. I only wish...” Sable’s voice faded.

  Pulling up onto his elbows, he looked down at her smiling face but felt worried that he’d missed something or hadn’t done something right. “What do you wish, Princess?”

  “I wish I hadn’t waited so long to ask you.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Sable sat in a comfortable winged chair in front of the picture window facing the gardens on the Graeme estate. The sun had just risen, and the orange-yellow sunlight gave everything in their bedroom a golden hue. She only had four more weeks until the end of her captivity—then she would either kiss her family goodbye or leave with them at the end of their visit. Today Dravven would require her decision. Would she stay on Gralon Empire or go back to Draenor?

  Although she had been convinced when she’d boarded the spacecraft to Gralon that Dravven would ruin her Prism Project, he actually had improved it. Having a new set of eyes looking at her model had given the project new life, refining both the purpose and goals.

  And even though the planet was male-dominated, and they only had submissive women on Gralon, Sable had adjusted very well, probably more than well, which made her decision even more difficult.

  “Today is the day. Do you have an answer for me?”

  She looked up to see Dravven towering over her in his silver robe, his hair still wet from showering, and the clean scent of soap renewing her arousal even though she’d just had two Gralon-shattering orgasms. His dark eyes were wide, and his throat visibly worked to swallow.

  Sable took a deep breath, plunging forward with her response before she lost her courage. “I’m staying.”

  Pulling her out of the chair, he shouted, “By the Gods of Aranah, you had me worried with all your talk last night about the culture here and how you would be glad to be rid of it.”

  He swung her around, and she hung on for dear life, giggling and laughing, and then just as abruptly he plopped her feet onto the floor. “Now, wait a minute. You did that on purpose, didn’t you? Just to watch me squirm.”

  Sable walked backward, shaking her head. “N-no. I don’t know what you’re talking about. And, well, the men do make it difficult to live here... many days. And—”

  “You little brat. You’re going to pay for that.”

  With a screech, Sable took off running, doing her best to open the door to their room and make an escape down the hallway, but Dravven’s huge hand plopped up against the door just above her head, keeping it shut. With one arm around her waist, he scoop
ed her up, tossing her face down onto their bed. The rumpled damask and velvet comforter cushioned her landing, and she anxiously giggled into it anticipating his revenge but unsure what exactly he’d do to her.

  Tugging a drawer open in his nightstand, he pulled out the lube, flicking the cover off and squeezing a dollop of the goo into his palm. “Ass up, girl. I think it’s time to reinforce who’s in charge in this household.”

  For whatever reason, Sable found the whole process of anal easier if she kept her eyes shut and just felt what was happening and responded to his voice and directions. The cold jelly made her clench initially but then as soon as his hard cock pressed against the tight whorl she pushed back, welcoming him into her dark channel. The burn and sting spurred her arousal; he added additional lube, easing him gently but persistently into her little hole.

  Slowly the burn faded into a warmth spreading throughout her loins, her clit throbbing with need, his hand rigorously rubbing the little bundle of nerves.

  His hips slapped against her ass, jarring her body, causing her breasts to sway and wobble with each pound of his cock into her bottom hole.

  Spiraling upward, Sable moaned with each thrust until she knew she had hit the point of no return, and shouted, “I’m coming. Oh... Oh!”

  Her pussy clenched tightly, causing her sphincter to squeeze his cock in a vise-like hold. He said, “Who do you answer to, Princess?”

  “You, S-sir.”

  “I’m in charge. You do as I say.” He had barely finished speaking when his hot seed spurted into her dark channel, filling her with each thrust of his cock until he was spent.

  “Damn, girl. This was supposed to be punishment. I think you enjoyed that more than any other time. Why is that?”

  She paused, not sure how much of her feelings she wanted to expose at once. “I like you taking control, forcing my submission.”