Into the Stars

by Gwendolyn Field

  CHAPTER FOUR

  I’m sore between my legs the next morning. Rawko took me four times during our three hours together. Four times! The boy was insatiable, and somehow he’d managed to make me climax with him every single time. I’m still baffled as I take my breakfast tray to the table in my room. A long, hot bath with healing salts is in order.

  I can’t help but smile as I drink my coffee and eat an entire plate of pastries, eggs, and reconstituted dried fruit. I’ve never before felt so well used as a Nevesta. My muscles are tight and sore, which has never happened to me outside of normal workouts. If I were home I’d ring Sheralyn on the wall telly. I can imagine her laughter and excitement. She’d be so proud, and I suddenly miss her terribly. It’s strange being the only female.

  It’s not forever, I remind myself. I can do anything for a time.

  After breakfast and a soaking bath, I decide to walk the ship. I’m still nervous to encounter the other men, but my time with Rawko has quelled my greatest fears. He wasn’t rough, per se, but he hadn’t treated me like I was breakable, and I liked that.

  The sleek halls are quiet but for the whir of robotic cleaning sounds. I hear low voices as I approach the open door of the gym.

  “I’m not lying!” Rawko’s voice is filled with laughter.

  “There’s no fucking way,” one of the men says. “Shut up.”

  “Swear to the stars. She’d never had one, and I gave her four!”

  I cover my mouth and stop in my tracks. They’re talking about me. It wasn’t against rules to talk about one’s experiences with a Nevesta, but it was a sign of maturity and respect. Once again I’m reminded that common courtesy does not extend to the ranks of Hornets aboard this ship. The heaviness of disappointment smothers me.

  I turn to rush away and nearly crash into an enormous chest. Captain Lexon grabs my arm to steady me, his large hand hot on my bare skin. Great galaxy, how does a man that size sneak up on someone without making a sound? He looks at my crumpled face, then toward the gym doors where muffled laughter emits. He nods curtly to the side for me to go. I’m halfway down the hall when I hear him bellow into the gym: “Get back to work and quit gossiping like a pack of starry-eyed girls!”

  I shouldn’t want to cry. I shouldn’t feel so scandalized and betrayed. After all, hadn’t Rawko told me things about each of these men yesterday that they might not have wanted shared? That’s what Earth men do, right? Brag about sex? Still, I’ve decided to give Rawko a piece of my mind at the first opportunity. Nothing but an overgrown child. A man-boy who’s decent in bed.

  I huff as I get to my room and wish I had an old-fashioned door to slam. The quiet slide of my door shutting is not at all satisfying.

  ***

  I don’t want to go to the gym, but I remember the captain’s warning to the chef about everyone aboard staying fit. So, when it’s my scheduled time, I don my fitted workout clothing and make my way to the empty gym. I decide to do cardio on the moving floor within enclosed virtual walls. I choose a video of a forest path and begin at a fast-paced walk that turns to a jog, then a run. I love the feel of the earthly forest all around me. We don’t have trees like this. Ours do not grow this tall and wide. A spritz of pine scent fills the space as I run.

  After half an hour I’ve seen two bunnies, a fawn and its mother, and countless birds—all things that only exist on Mars in our one Mother Earth Zoo. I’m wiping sweat from my face with a towel when I turn and nearly scream at the sight of Rawko standing there. His face is downcast and he shifts his feet like a burdened child.

  “I want to tell you I’m sorry,” he says.

  My cheeks, which are already warm, get hotter as I realize Captain Lexon told him I’d overheard his bragging, and most likely commanded him to apologize. I look down, then force myself to face him again. His bright sky eyes are filled with remorse as he goes on.

  “I just…I enjoyed our time together and I got carried away. I meant no offense, I swear, just the opposite. But I’ll never speak of our time with the others again.”

  I stand taller. Nod. “All right, then. Thank you.”

  “You forgive me?” The remorse turns to hope, and I melt a bit.

  “Yes.”

  He grins, and his eyes abruptly heat as they look over my tight clothing and the sweat on my skin. I resist the urge to press my thighs together where I can still feel the remnants of our time together.

  “Okay,” he says, but doesn’t stop staring.

  I look aside and can’t resist smiling. “Okay, Rawko.”

  He steps forward and gives me a lovely, soft peck on the lips.

  “Okay,” he says again before taking several steps backward and finally turning. I watch him go and find that my mood has lifted.

  Still fighting a smile, I go to the weight machines, knowing I will need to get my body in top shape to keep up with these men.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  At seven-fifty-nine my muscles feel like jelly and I’m regretting my decision to work the weights so hard. I definitely overdid it in my nervousness for Tiko’s visit. I’ve put on a short skirt and thick heels that accentuate my calves and backside.

  At eight-oh-one two hard knocks ring through the room and my heart knocks along with it. I press my palm to the panel and the door slides open. My eyes travel up, up, and up more to the hardened face of Tiko and his rows of black hair, while his eyes travel down, down, down my low cut blouse and tiny skirt to my bare legs and heels. I step aside and the door automatically closes as he strides in and follows me to the edge of the bed.

  I can hear the slam of blood in my ears as my heart beats erratically and I turn to face him. When he doesn’t move, just looms above me, I slowly lift my blouse over my head. I’m wearing black lace tonight and a matching thong. He still doesn’t move, but he runs his pink tongue over his bottom lip and my breath catches. I am not sure what he wants from me, so I go by instinct. Reaching out, I grasp the edges of his shirt and lift. He pulls it the rest of the way off.

  He has the most defined muscles I’ve ever seen, and across the skin of his chest are scars, purposeful scars, like patterned burn marks. Brands. Symbols. I reach up to run a finger around a raised circle, and he hisses. He grabs my wrist and suddenly I’m turned around, my back against his hard abdomen, and he’s walking us toward the bed. He takes my hands and presses them firmly to the edge of the bed.

  I remember what Rawko told me, that Tiko’s an ass man.

  Swallowing hard, I raise my hips and press my ass back, finding a length of hardness against my softness. His groan is so low that it rumbles through me. In the next second he’s lifted my skirt up to my waist. I turn my head to see him looking at my ass like it’s a tender meal. He sees me watching and proceeds to pull out the longest penis I’ve ever seen in real life. When my eyes widen the smallest grin of masculine pride touches his lips. He lets go of himself long enough to pull my panties down to my mid-thighs, and his cock slaps against my ass. He grabs it again and runs the tip up and down my slit from top to bottom. I suck in a breath and arch toward him.

  I’m slick, which makes him let out a small moan as he runs it up and down me again. As nervous as I am, I find myself pushing back in anticipation when I feel his head aligned with my opening. Tiko grabs both of my hips and rocks his own forward so fast, I swear to stars I feel him stab me inside, and my head flies back as I let out a yell. Unlike Rawko, he does not stop to see if I’m okay, but it’s all right. Because I’m fine. It does hurt, but somehow the pain is not a bad thing. It makes me feel strong, because I can handle it.

  I turn my head and watch his massive body as it disappears into mine. I look so tiny and soft compared to him, and he’s so long that he doesn’t even go all the way inside me on most strokes. He likes to pull out and run the head of his cock up and down me, rubbing against my clit in an enticing slide. Then smack my cheeks to watch them move under the hard weight of his dick. Watching my body be used in this position is incredibly erotic, and I feel alive
.

  I circle my ass as he plays with me until he’s ready to properly give it to me again. When his giant hands take hard hold of my hips and he pumps forward harder and faster, I grab the edge of the bed more securely. I can’t hold back the small yelps with each jab of him deep inside me. For a while I press back to his rhythm, meeting him thrust for thrust, until he’s going so fast and so hard all I can do is let him fuck me as I hold on tight and cry out. When he comes, it’s so hard I lose my grip on the bed and I’m pressed forward, slamming into the mattress. I feel his body pumping into me as he lets out a thunderous groan that shakes the bed and makes me whimper.

  Then, in the stillness, he stays inside of me and reaches a long arm around. Two fingers find my clit and I gasp as they press against my soft wetness and circle, circle, circle. He’s still deep inside of me, still hard enough to fill me and touch my nerve-endings. And suddenly I’m igniting against his fingers, around his cock, my body squirming as I cry out. His other hand reaches around my stomach to keep me from falling as my knees buckle and we’re breathing hard together.

  Before he pulls out, Tiko leans forward and kisses the place where my neck meets my shoulder. His warm lips stay there until we catch our breath. He slides out in slow motion. I shudder when I’m empty, the heat of his body gone from my skin, and just as quickly gone from my room. I look around, blinking, my body weak now.

  I undress and step into my bathroom, my body trembling as I press the buttons for a hot shower. I think about Tiko and realize he never spoke a single word during our time together, and neither did I. I suppose some things are simply universal.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Something new and strange happened to me that night while I slept. I woke climaxing from a dream I can’t recall. When I wake the next morning, I still feel more aware of my body and my own pleasure than I ever have—not to mention sore all over. I eat another huge breakfast and exercise in the gym, opting for core work instead of weights today.

  The men are politely waiting outside of the gym when I exit. I feel myself blush when I meet the eyes of each soldier as I pass. Except Yahni, the last in line. While the others look upon me with primal appreciation, Yahni’s scarred, icy gaze holds something fiercer and guarded. Almost…calculating. A flash of fear spikes inside me as his shoulder brushes mine with a stare of malevolence.

  He is dangerous. Not the kind of dangerous that the other men are. It’s as if his self-control for violence teeters on the edge of a very sharp blade at any given moment. Yahni frightens me.

  I spend the rest of the day sick to my stomach thinking about him coming to my room tonight. Unlike my time with Rawko and Tiko, I decide I will leave my finger gloves on when he comes to me, in case I need to make an emergency call to the captain. I don’t think Yahni would dare hurt me on the ship—there are cameras in the halls, so he can’t possibly get away with it—but still, I fear him so much I have no appetite for dinner.

  When eight o’clock comes, I’m a wreck. I pace the room in a lavender dress, feeling beads of sweat down my back and beneath my mane of heavy hair. I lift the thick strands and fan my skin.

  Nine o’clock arrives. Then ten. I recall what Rawko said, that Yahni might not even come to me on his allotted day, and I allow myself to relax a fraction. At eleven I pass out on my bed with relief, fully clothed.

  ***

  The following morning I’m standing in my bra and panties, about to step into a dress when my wall panel chimes and lights up. I startle as I look into the shocked eyes of the captain. In the second it takes me to yank the dress up and cover myself, Captain Lexon’s eyes have already raked up every inch of my skin.

  He mutters “Fuck,” just before the panel flickers off.

  A burst of pure arousal shoots through me as I finish pulling the silk up over my arms. In that second when he’d looked me over, I have no doubt he liked what he saw. I can’t help but wonder why he isn’t on my rotation. Earthly morals, perhaps? A woman he loves back on his home planet? I marvel again at that Earth notion of love and what it means to them there. To vow that you will hold and love no other. A shock of acid churns my stomach as I think of the captain feeling that strongly for another woman, and I stand there confused for a moment. What was that sensation?

  I absently finish dressing, then I stride to the panel and call his office. His jaw is set when he answers, but I see a sheepish tilt of his eyes.

  “Do you need something, Captain?” Before he can answer, I find myself adding, “You know I’m at your service.” The words come out seductive, surprising me. The sheepishness leaves his eyes as he seems to stiffen.

  “No,” he says gruffly. “My apologies. I’ll request your response via wall text from now on. I was calling to invite you to the sparring area today at three. You keep to your rooms a lot, and I thought, perhaps, it would be good for you to get out. The men are having a tournament.”

  I smile at the idea. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be there.”

  Like before, he disconnects without a good-bye. But this time I continue smiling, because I still remember his eyes stuck to my skin like honey, and I’m wondering how he prefers to take his women. I wonder what sounds he makes, and my core warms. I marvel at this person I’ve become in four day’s time, this woman who understands for the first time in her life what it means to feel sensual.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  In the spirit of sparring, I opt for black leather pants, boots, and an iridescent blue blouse that scoops low enough to show an inch of cleavage and forms softly to my body. I wear my hair down in a mass of loose barrel curls. I can hear the men’s voices down the hall, raucous with banter and laughter. But when I walk into the sparring room, a hush falls over the boisterous men during their warm ups. I practically glow under their appreciative stares—all but Yahni, whose hair is down around his shoulders, shielding the sides of his face. From what I can see of his light eyes in the shadows, he seems angry to see me, or like he’s imagining the twisted things he’d like to do to me. His hands ball into fists. I take a step backward into the doorway.

  “Haven’t you seen a female before?” Captain Lexon barks at the room, snapping them from their perusals of my leathers. I move quickly to the bench along the wall as they get back to stretching.

  “Let’s get started,” the captain says. “Dev. Rawk. You’re up first.”

  Rawko holds up an arm and looks in my direction. “I propose that the winner of each match gets a kiss from Reesa.”

  My face flushes as a few men chuckle and Rawko winks at me.

  “The winner can get a kiss from my ass,” Captain says. “On your marks.” I bite my lip as the chuckles turn to outright laughter.

  Devlar and Rawko peel off their warm up jackets and pants to reveal tight sporting nylons that narrowly cover their lower hips down to mid-thigh. They’re evenly matched in size. Both men bounce on the balls of their feet in the middle of the mat while the other soldiers stand on the outskirts of the circle, arms crossed and legs spread. Rawko thumbs the side of his nose and grins as he takes a stance. Devlar narrows his eyes. The captain lets out a whistle.

  I’m not sure what I’d expected. Perhaps a boyish tumble of wrestling? However, that’s not what I get. They go at each other so viciously, I bring my hands to shield my eyes, peeking through. Every move is precise and controlled. They grunt as they give and take jabs. Punching. Kicking. Flipping. Grabbing. Roaring. Rawko ends up on his back, and turns just as Devlar brings a sharp elbow down where his throat was.

  My stars, they’ll kill each other!

  The other men are shouting while Captain Lexon circles them, watching intently in silence. It’s remarkable to see the change in Rawko. Gone is his jovial nature. In fact, the snarling look on his face as he tucks Devlar’s head in the crook of his arm and squeezes is unsettling. Devlar nearly passes out before he slices a heel to the back of Rawko’s knee, making him stumble forward to release him, and then he punches the blond on the cheek hard enough to make blood fly from hi
s mouth. My scream is lost among the hollers of the men surrounding them.

  By the time Captain Lexon announces Devlar the winner, both men are bloodied, sweating, and bent over, clutching their knees as they catch their breath. After a moment they stand and shake hands. Then my heart pounds as Devlar walks straight toward me, and Sergeant Milaz lets out a whistle. My lungs fill sharply, and I’m afraid to exhale.

  Devlar is breathing deeply, his bare feet silently prowling across the mat as his muscular thighs ripple under the tight material. I bring my hands to my sides to grasp the bench in my nervous fingers. Devlar gets to me and leans down, his hands smacking the bench beside my own. A bruise and swelling is sprouting across his freckled cheekbone and forehead. A bead of sweat drips from his chin to my lap. I stare into his green, unsmiling eyes.

  “Be naked when I arrive tonight,” he says low enough for only me to hear. Cool anticipation trickles down my spine and lands between my legs. Then his mouth covers mine for two hot seconds, tasting both salty and sweet, before he’s pushing away, striding back to the men who clap for him.

  My blood has gone hot. I glance toward the captain, who’s watching me with his full lips pursed tightly in an expression I can’t comprehend. All I know is that I feel naked when looked upon like that. My nipples constrict into buds under the intensity of his gaze, and hot stars above, his eyes travel down my blouse, which is shaped so that it’s not necessary to wear a bra with it. I don’t have to look down to know my breasts have gone tighter, higher, my nipples practically poking through the soft material.

  Feeling strangely exposed in a way that doesn’t normally bother me, I cross my arms. His eyes snap back up to mine and widen as he seems to realize how lost he’d been, and his jaw tenses as he jerks his head away.

  “Trip!” he shouts, almost angrily. “Tiko! Knives.”

  My heart sinks in my chest, both from the loss of his attention and the names of the next two fighters. The tallest and shortest men are to spar? With knives? If the prior two soldiers look as they do after battling without weapons, how will this match turn out? I watch in horror as they approach the weapon wall and each choose daggers. Upon closer inspection, they don’t appear sharp or shiny. They’re dull sparring knives, which eases my worry only a small fraction. I know there are quick-healing potions aboard that will manage any surface injuries, but deeper wounds are still an issue.