Tzahyad smirked, then quickly concealed his reaction.
Sandy Burr wasn’t a natural redhead.
She wore sheer, thigh-high stockings with lacy tops. One of the few customs of the planet he enjoyed was this silent signal the females gave when they were anxious to be fucked. Oh, it probably wasn’t true for every woman. But more times than he could remember, his victims had worn the seductive hose. He thought of his little satchel of souvenirs, filled with stockings. He’d take them out, different sizes and colors, and drape them on his body, inhaling the trace of their owners’ arousal. He loved the silky feel of them wrapped around his cock.
Tonight was going to be a good feed.
He slid inside, closed the door and snapped his fingers. The windows darkened and the overhead light flicked on. A warm golden glow filled the interior.
Sandy gaped. How had he done that? She looked at him. Shadows clung to his handsome face, creating a mysterious picture. Her breath hitched. Had she made a stupid mistake to get in a car with a total stranger?
Then he shrugged out of his jacket, displaying a black t-shirt that clung to an impressive chest. He pulled the shirt out of his pants and drew it over his head. Her eyes widened when she saw a sleek, swimmer’s body, muscles rippling, flat male nipples puckered with arousal, and shining as though oiled. An exotic-looking medallion lay between his nipples with a polished piece of amber in its center.
Moisture creamed between her thighs. She spread her legs wider and forgot her questions and her fears.
Tzahyad crouched above his prey. Her arousal filled his nostrils. The thin material of her blouse caressed her pointed nipples. He couldn’t determine a bra line and he smiled. It was almost too easy.
“Roll over on your belly.”
She tossed her hair over her shoulders and licked her lips.
“I thought you might like a taste first.” She hunched against the back of the car, lifted up her skirt to her waist and pulled down her thong, wriggling as she drew it over her knees, helping it fall to her ankles.
He grabbed the material wrapped around her slim ankles and twisted it into a knot, binding her.
He smiled again.
“Please roll over, darlin’. I want to fuck that pretty sweet ass of yours first. Would you do that little thing for me?”
Sandy nodded. She’d been a bit concerned when he’d bound her ankles, but her hands were free. She supposed if he’d wanted to keep her captive, he’d have tied her wrists, too.
As though sensing her hesitancy, her rescuer unbuckled his belt, tossing it into the front seat, and pulled down his pants, letting them fall in a heap on the floor of the car.
His erection sprang free, incredibly long and thick.
The man wore no underwear.
Sandy rolled over, raising her buttocks for the fucking of her lifetime.
The last fuck she’d ever enjoy.
Tzahyad covered his prey’s willing body. He sheathed his cock and released his power.
She slumped forward, her skirt rucked up to her waist, her stockings still clinging to her slim legs.
It wasn’t enough. He needed to feel her flesh against his. The skirt was a wrap-around, easily removed. Her blouse, a little more difficult. He drew her back on her haunches, raised her arms and pulled off the top, tossing it and the skirt into the front.
Now, except for her hose, she was naked in his arms. She leaned back against his chest, his prick prodding her ass. Her arms hung limp at her sides, her head lolled against her shoulder, her eyes shuttered.
His hands reached around and pinched her nipples. Her eyes shot open.
“So glad you could join me, darlin’. You’re just in time for the party.”
His hand traveled down her flat belly to her furred mound. His long, lean fingers plunged deep within her core. She arched, moaning. One, two, three fingers explored her hot, wet, pussy. Her breath came in short, hard pants as he stroked her.
His breath gusted across her cheek as he whispered how much he enjoyed fucking her. How he wanted to fuck her until she was sore and tired.
Then he’d fuck her some more.
She climaxed, her muscles clenching around his fingers. She sagged forward, but he held her up.
“Don’t give out on me now, darlin’. There’s more to come.”
He stripped off the used condom and pulled another one over his still rigid flesh, the one part of his anatomy he couldn’t allow to come in contact with the inhabitants of this and many other worlds. His sperm could sear their bodies. He did so hate the resulting mess.
He cradled his victim as he let her sink forward and then propped up her butt. Her hands reached for the inside lock on the back window and clung with all her remaining strength.
Spreading her cheeks, he drove his cock into her willing body. He pumped, plunging over and over. She bucked against him. Her hair whipped around as she tossed her head.
She whimpered.
Tzahyad exalted. And moved faster. “Now, baby, sweet, sweet baby. Give it to me. Everything. I want everything.”
An earth-shattering climax struck her, and she screamed.
He closed his eyes and pulled her sexual energy from her body into his. He flung his head back as the power surged into him.
He held her tighter as she sagged while he drained her of every bit of her sexual desire.
She fainted.
Turning her over on her back, he gazed down at the naked, limp form. He ran a finger down the valley between her breasts.
Her buds puckered.
He frowned. “I must be losing my touch.” He sighed. “Oh, well. I hate sloppy workmanship.”
And he took her one more time.
Chapter Two
Julie surveyed the apartment over the newly redecorated Real Bad Boys Club and smiled. After several weeks putting in extra hours long into the night, she’d transformed the seldom-used apartment into a makeshift dressing room for a dozen people. The walls of the kitchen/living area now boasted mirrored wall tiles outlined with lights suitable for use while putting on make-up. Long tables, divided into work areas for several people, were pushed against three walls. In the bedroom, three moveable clothes racks waited for costumes. Twin beds could accommodate two of the contestants. The rest would be put up for free at the only motel in town. Julie owed that one to Connie and Tory. Reduced rates for advertising on the radio station and Connie’s free website service convinced the owner to give ten contestants the use of five rooms for eleven days.
She glanced at her watch. Almost six. The first of the contestants was due this Thursday evening around six-thirty. She took a deep breath and checked her image in the mirror. Her long, straight black hair was pulled back by barrettes on each side. Her hazel eyes did look a bit tired but there was nothing she could do about that.
As there was nothing she could do about her full-bodied figure. Except tilt her chin up and make sure that her sapphire blue V-neck t-shirt fit well and her Levi’s hugged every one of her luscious curves.
Luscious. That was the term Rob used to get her into bed at grad school. In the beginning she had considered herself lucky that her first sexual experience had been with someone more knowledgeable, and, she thought, accepting of her extra pounds. But when Rob dumped her, it had been for more than just her weight. It was also for money and a rich, skinny woman who could give him a start in business.
It had taken her some time to deal with it. Thankfully, the emotional ties hadn’t been that strong, and she walked away with her heart bruised but intact. And a driving need to succeed in her career. And she had.
Julie shrugged. No use dwelling on the past. As long as she was neatly dressed, what did it matter? After all, she wasn’t planning on dating these guys. She giggled. They were probably gay anyway.
* * * * *
Tzahyad wrapped Sandy Burr’s stocking around his cock. Traces of her arousal still clung to it. Her sexual energy continued to surge through his body. He’d left her in her car’s
driver’s seat, barely conscious, her clothes in disarray. He smiled with satisfaction. She’d been so limp it had been difficult for her to put her skirt and blouse back on. She clung to him as he helped her find her vehicle. Only a few people saw them and assumed she was drunk. When they reached her car, he noted the out-of-town license plates. The icing on the cake. No connection at all to his new hunting ground.
She’d go home without any memory of what had happened to her. He regretted that. What a shame not to remember the best screwing she’d ever had or would have again.
He tightened the stocking around his penis. Exquisite pain shot through him. His hands stroked his rigid shaft, and wave after wave of sexual energy washed over him. He glanced over at the clock. Time to get to Real Bad Boys. He chuckled. If only the owner knew just how bad a boy he was.
* * * * *
Mike looked over his appearance in the bathroom mirror. Although Tzahyad had never seen him, there were certain telltale signs that he’d have to hide. He stepped back to go over his entire body.
Turning slowly he examined every inch with detachment. Good. Nothing showed. Not even his ID. He’d had his Esper tattoo removed before he’d started hunting Tzahyad again. This time when he got close, he’d give him no warning.
He was ready. He double checked the address for Real Bad Boys and headed out.
* * * * *
Tory admired her outfit. Cornflower-blue jacket cut just the right length to elongate her frame. Light blue V-neck blouse that merely hinted at her abundant cleavage. And a swirling multi-shaded knee length skirt that revealed her slim ankles. Her heels were strappy numbers that twined around those trim ankles.
There. She was ready to do her first live radio broadcast from Real Bad Boys. She’d convinced Pete, her station manager that the novelty of the place would draw in listeners, especially since Real Bad Boys planned on doing drawings for eight free admissions to the place during the contest; one drawing a day, so she’d have an excuse to be out of the station and away from Pete’s roving hands.
Who would have thought she’d be fending off attention? She hadn’t told any of the other girls. She figured she could handle it herself and this fun gig would give her a needed breather.
She squared her shoulders, shut off the lights and locked the door behind her.
* * * * *
“Who the hell said you could go to that joint tonight? I want my dinner on the table at seven just like always. You looking to get lucky with some fag stripper?”
Bill’s voice grated on Connie’s ears. Finishing earlier than expected at the insurance office, he’d walked into the house and straight to the fridge for a beer. Or three. Or four. Or more. Before she had a chance to tell him his food just needed to be heated in the microwave, he’d seen the gaudy flier she’d designed for Julie on the kitchen table with tonight’s date and time written on it. His reaction was immediate and harsh.
She tried placating him. “I prepared your supper for you, hon; it’s in the fridge. You just need to heat it up in the microwave oven. The table’s set in the dining room, and I have a salad made and rolls heating up ...” Her voice trailed off.
Bill was looking at her with a look she’d come to dread.
“Hon? You calling me hon? You sure as shit aren’t acting like I’m your hon.”
He moved over to where she was standing by the kitchen sink. He eyed her outfit. The sleeveless blouse and long skirt could hardly be called provocative, but the spring green color acted like a bullfighter’s red cape. He reared back.
“You are planning on trolling for meat.” He sneered. “Think anyone would want your used goods? Hell, I was an idiot to marry you. Thought you’d be a good lay with those big tits.” He laughed. “You sure fooled me. And no kids. We’ve been married five years and you still can’t produce one brat from between those fat legs. I thought you’d pop ’em out like a sow, with the equipment you have. Man, was I fooled.”
Connie moved slowly away from the sink to the kitchen back door. She had the keys to the car in her pocket. Maybe she could get out while he was distracted thinking on how she’d tricked him into marrying her. She took another small step and froze.
He grabbed her arm.
“Where you going, bitch?” He squeezed just a bit.
“Don’t.” Connie kept her voice even, trying not to incite him. “If you squeeze too hard, I’ll have a bruise I won’t be able to hide. Please, Bill. I promised Julie I’d help out with this.”
He flung her arm away and took a deep breath, ending in a loud belch.
“Remember, Gary’s over there. He’ll be watching you. You do anything that makes me look foolish, he’ll tell me.” He belched again. “Get out before I change my mind. And be home early.”
Backing away from him, Connie moved awkwardly to the door. Opening it inch by inch, she watched as he staggered toward the dining room. With any luck he’d be passed out when she came home. Making sure the door didn’t slam behind her, she paused on the top step and took a deep, cleansing breath, ending in a shudder. Bill usually kept to verbal abuse, but lately he’d gotten more and more physically threatening.
Was Gary his spy? She hoped not. He didn’t act like he was spying on her for Bill. Whenever he and his wife got together with her and Bill, he was always nice. She shook her head. No matter. She thought of the fun she’d had the last few weeks getting ready for tonight and smiled. She was going to enjoy herself.
And damn Bill.
* * * * *
Patty closed up shop early. Not that anyone would probably notice. Running a used bookstore in this town was not the most lucrative venture. Thankfully, her little apartment over the store made for an efficient way to keep down expenses. The building was hers, too, a gift from her Granny O’Neill. She enjoyed going to yard sales and library sales for inventory. Other used bookstores traded with her, too, if a devoted customer wanted a book she didn’t stock. All in all, she was happy with her life. She had all her pals back since Julie returned to town. And she had her dreams.
She pinned her Tara brooch, a souvenir of her trip over to Ireland the previous year, onto her bright green sweater and smiled. She was going to have fun tonight.
* * * * *
“Hey, Julie, I think one of your contestants just pulled up.”
Gary’s voice floated up the stairs to where Julie was just giving a final touch to the apartment. A big basket of fruit, crackers and cheese and sodas would greet the guys. Just a little something to say, “welcome”.
“I’ll be right down, Gary. Thanks.”
She rushed down the stairs to the side door. She’d placed a sign out front directing the contestants to the side and to park in that area, if they had their own vehicles.
She hurried over now, just getting to the door as it opened and the first contestant entered.
“Welcome! You’re the first one here.”
A deep Southern drawl answered her greeting.
“Well, I’m really glad to be here, ma’am. Seems it took forever to get here from D.C. Longer than the plane ride from Alabama that I took when I first moved up North.”
Julie smiled. Ma’am. Well, she needn’t worry that this guy was going to hit on her. Not that she really thought that any of the men would be interested. Julie held out her hand.
“You must be Beau. I’m Julie Turner, the owner of Real Bad Boys. I’m so glad you’ll be participating. Did you get your room?”
The lanky Southerner took her hand, but instead of shaking it raised it to his lips, brushing a kiss on the back and bowing.
“Miss Julie, my pleasure. I’m staying in the Grotto Inn in town.” He grinned, showing a dimple in one lean cheek. “The manager said my room had been paid for. I’m truly grateful.” His dimple deepened as his grin spread. “You must have some Southern blood in you to be so gracious.”
Julie giggled, surprising herself with her reaction to his light flirting.
“Not a bit. But you must have some Irish blood in you. I�
��ve never heard such blarney!”
Beau shook his head. “I only speak the truth. I’ve got a friend watching my apartment in D.C. If this turns into a permanent gig, he’ll sublet it from me.” He indicated his suitcase and garment bag. “Can you point me in the right direction? I’ll get rid of my gear and check out the dressing room, if I may.”
“Just up the stairs. Take any spot you like. First come, first served.”
The handsome Southerner nodded and sped up the stairs, giving Julie the opportunity to admire a pair of nice tight buns encased in worn jeans. She grinned. This was going to be fun.
Another knock on the door heralded both Tory and Connie. Julie sent Connie up to help Beau and the other contestants to settle in and took the moment to square details of the remote with Tory.
“Are you all set?”
Tory nodded. “We have the truck out front and we’re going to try to snag the next few guys as they get here. We’ll connect with the station for phone-ins for the free admission and if people want to ask questions of the contestants.” She ran her fingers through her short, wavy brown hair. “I’m so excited about this!”
Julie hugged her. “Well, sweetie, get ready for more excitement. That song you recorded for me? The one you begged me to erase ’cause you thought you sounded so lousy? It’s the opening song for the contest!”
Tory stared at Julie. “The song I wrote? The one about a real, good girl looking for a real, bad boy? Julie! How could you?”
“Hey, easy. You sound great. I promise I won’t tell anybody who’s singing ... unless I’m asked. Don’t worry. The women who come here Friday won’t be paying any attention to the music. They’ll be admiring the hunks. Now go out there and promote your little heart out.”
A few minutes later, Patty arrived. Friday, she’d help give out programs and make sure every woman who entered Real Bad Boys had a voting card. She was also the clothing monitor. No naughty glimpses of male equipment could get past her.
Julie relaxed. All her friends were here to help.
Noone Else on Earth Page 2
