by Rena Marks
Much as I hate it, it so matters that they stand seven feet tall. Because if a man is that huge, everything else must be proportionate. That gets me wet all over again.
Then again, what doesn’t? Damn the gray aliens for doing whatever in the hell they did to me. Even if the spaceship gets magically fixed one day—like the others are hoping—I can never return home. Not like this. I don’t know what’s been done to me, and I don’t know how to fix it. And back home, they’ll never accept it. No. My parents would toss me out on the streets. Or they’d lock me up somewhere. The thought makes me sad.
The barbarian in the man-bun paints the black war paint on the others’ faces. That’s his job, royal painter or something like that. He watches me intently. I ignore him. Not that he isn’t attractive, because he is. His blue eyes are incredibly intense, more so than anyone else’s eye color. A lot of the men have eyes of blue, but some have black eyes. They all have thick, glossy black hair. I look away. I’m just not able to communicate, and even if I could, what would I say? Hey, I’m Tessa. I’d like to fuck your brains out? Plus he stands with his friend, the loose-haired one and he stares, too.
Hell and damnation. Now I can’t decide which one I’d like to fuck.
The other barbarians are putting sandals on the humans, and the loose-haired one comes to me. He grunts, holding the twine and thick leaves that develop into shoes, and then squats. The muscles in his leg bulge and I feel the now-familiar stirring of interest. I look at everyone else, and each girl is sitting on a barbarian’s outstretched thigh. So I come to him, wrap my arm around his neck, and place my ass on his bare skin. Only, I’ve torn the edge of my hospital gown into a slit to go up my leg, and sometime when I went to sit, the damn thing edged up and it’s my core plastered against his warm thigh.
He catches his breath and stares intently at me, trying to figure me out. I hold his gaze without blinking. He looks like he wants to carry me off, away from everyone else. Suddenly I feel powerful, a woman in charge. This is why loose women do it, I think. This is why they offer their bodies so freely. With sex, you can control a man. A man is helpless to his libido. I understand.
Just then, the face-painter from earlier squats in front of us to help. He says something to the hunter who holds me.
Now, earlier when a hunter went after Miranda and someone else tried to approach, that guy snarled his displeasure. There’s no displeasure with these two. Either they’re friends, or the face-painter is revered and able to approach any female he wants.
My new-found power deserves an experiment. I lift my leg to place my foot in the face-painter’s lap, and deliberately give him a view by allowing my knees to drop open.
His beautiful blue eyes shine with lust. Definitely powerful. His hands shake as he puts the sandal together, and the hunter who holds me says soft words to him. Encouragement, maybe? But yet he’s got his warm hand on the small of my back, so if he’s encouraging his buddy, he obviously has no boundaries.
The face-painter looks up from my crotch and has to forcibly tear his eyes away. I’m incredulous. I never realized the power of the pussy.
His gaze is sultry when he thumps his chest and says, “Jeroc.”
It sounds like J-roc, with a soft J that sort of melds the syllables together. Almost like Drock, without the harshness of the letter D.
Then the hunter who has me on his lap places his right hand on my thigh, getting my attention. When I look from Jeroc to him, he says, “Tijar.”
I repeat it. “Ti-haar.”
He looks pleased. They’ve told me their names, I realize.
“Tessa.”
Simultaneously, they repeat it. My name sounds softer on their tongues.
My feet have long since been sandaled, but still I sit, squirming on the muscular thigh of Tijar. Allowing Jeroc to study my pussy. Enjoying these new feelings within me. Because truth is, it feels good to have the control.
But eventually everyone else gets up to leave. With a sad look, and a stiff one beneath the loincloth, Jeroc pulls me up to stand. I don’t bother to look behind me to see if I left a smear of wetness on Tijar’s thigh, because I’m sure it’s there.
As we hit the trail, I walk between the two of them. They’re huge men and I feel dainty between them. Protected. It’s a feeling I need. They shorten their strides to pace mine, and I wish I knew the language they speak. They banter back and forth and usually call out to another hunter also. So I’m still not sure as to their relationship, but they both stay with me.
Then I get a lucky break. Lucie is hanging back, keeping her distance from one of the barbarians. I don’t blame her. He looks a little rougher than the rest, and she’s tiny. I don’t think she can take him. I think she’s trying to avoid him, and it works for me. She’s able to translate.
Lucie’s a blond, and her cheeks are flushed bright red. “Um, they want to know if you’re interested.”
“Tell them obviously, or I wouldn’t be walking between them.”
This gets a chuckle out of them.
“Tijar says he’s a hunter and able to provide meat for your hearth. Jeroc says he’s the royal painter and able to provide quality time with you in the furs.”
That gets a chuckle out of me, because he just one-upped Tijar. I’m not about to play favorites, though.
“Explain to him on Earth, women decide how quality the time is.”
“He says you will not be disappointed.”
“Will you ask him what the relationship is between the two of them?”
It takes a while, and they both add conversation to Lucie’s question.
“They have been best friends since they were small. Their parents are friends. Jeroc’s father passed, and Tijar’s family provides for his mother. Jeroc’s sister is mated with Tijar’s brother. One great, big happy family.” Her voice is wry.
“They’re pretty different from us, aren’t they?”
Tijar mutters something to Lucie.
“He wants to know what we’re saying between us.”
“Tell him I can’t quite decide who’s more intriguing.”
She repeats what I say.
“He says there’s no need to choose right now. To enjoy, or something like that.” Her cheeks are pink again.
“I intend to,” I say. “I’m not settling.”
“Me, neither,” another girl calls out. Miranda.
“I’m with you,” Jillian says.
“I’m okay with them all catering to me,” Jezebel hollers from down the trail.
And so it’s settled. I’m playing the field.
I’m left alone with Jeroc when Tijar leaves with some others to hunt for our dinner. So far, he’s in the winning. But to be fair, Tijar has the responsibility of feeding the tribe, so I have to give him my patriotic respect. Plus, he’s solid and luscious. He looks like he’d pound hard into a woman.
I shake my head. I can’t believe I was a virgin a few weeks ago. I’m so not going to look backward, though. Some of the men are showing the ladies where to use the bathroom. Jeroc is showing me the cave, some of the pots they must use for cooking, some dried herbs they keep. Then he takes me outside and shows me various plants. The communication level is beyond difficult. I don’t know why he’s showing me.
I sit on the ground, frustrated. We’re under a tree, and it’s not quite as hot here. He sinks down with me, and pulls me to lay across his lap. I’m looking up at him, and he murmurs something. It’s soft and sweet. He strokes my head and it feels so good, I close my eyes for a second. His large fingers move to my temples, rubbing small circles. I’d like to moan, it feels so good. But I’m holding back my responses. I’m not sure what is normal and what is alien-induced. I don’t want the other girls to know I’m a tramp.
Then Jeroc begins exploring me. I open my eyes and he runs a light touch over my nose, my lips. Purposely, I part them and swirl my tongue around the tip of his finger. His eyes look intense, and his breathing deepens. He traces my bottom lip with his fi
nger, and then he brings the wetness up to his mouth to suck.
Interesting.
He’s sucking where my mouth has been, and it’s surprisingly sensual. I feel the beginning stirrings of desire deep inside me.
He comes back to trace my jaw line, and then down my neck to my collarbone. Very, very slowly he inches down between my breasts, as if giving me a chance to pull away.
I don’t stop him. I’m sure he can tell it’s okay by the way my nipples poke through the thin fabric of my gown. His eyes are glued to mine as he traces around one peaked nipple. This time I do groan, because it’s so erotically sexy. He likes that, a small half smile touches his well-formed mouth. He’s going to be a sensual lover, set on giving and pleasing. I like that.
Then his finger resumes tracing down the midline of my body, dipping into my belly-button indentation. He pauses a moment, then traces down to the triangle between my legs.
I swear I can feel my clit poking through the material just like my nipples do. My breathing is erratic and I raise my hips so I can pull the gown up, bunching it around my waist.
My bottom half is exposed.
He mutters something and his eyes are drawn down. His finger traces through my curls, and he feels the dampness there.
“Shellata,” he says, and I have no idea what he means. But then the naughty man gathers my wetness onto him, and brings it to his lips to taste.
Lust spirals out of control.
I grip his biceps, my fingers clawing into his skin. Sudden, frantic need courses through me. He seems to notice, and brings his hand back down to my sex to stop his teasing and finish the job. His big, magnificent finger dips in and out, and his thumb swirls around my clit. He moves faster, deliberately masturbating me. My body is on fire. I’m throbbing with need and I cry out, disturbing a flock of birds in the tree.
I watch them fly off, but Jeroc pays them no mind as he concentrates on finger-fucking me. My sex is gripping his finger, clenching around him so tightly, promising him the same concentrated pleasure for his dick.
My orgasm is intense, wringing me inside out. I come all around him, and I feel so tight inside, it’s even more intense when he wiggles his finger and groans.
Then my blue barbarian turns his head sharply, and listens. Out in the distance, a few of the hunters arrive with the kill. He brings my gown down to cover me and helps me up.
Suddenly I feel guilty. Tijar is probably in the group.
Jeroc helps me up, and he seems a bit more possessive now. He holds me to him, letting me feel his hardness through the loincloth as he strokes my back. Then, regretfully he sets me aside and takes a deep breath. With one hand at my waist, he leads me back toward the cave. Noise comes from the back of the cave where the others are in a bathing pool. Jeroc takes me back there, nodding to the guys manning the campfire.
The other human girls are in the pool, dipping down to their necks. Drakar enters with Tijar, who moves to stand with us, and greets Jeroc.
Drakar says something to Niki, who laughs.
Then, to my utter amazement, all of the hunters who come in behind Drakar start stripping butt naked. My eyes grow wide and I quickly avert my gaze from all the marvelous blue dicks. My attention is stuck on the fact that Tijar and Jeroc are calmly stripping, too.
“Apparently, nakedness is not an issue with Blaedonians,” Niki says wryly. “They’re surprised we’re in the pool with our clothes on. They think it’s funny.”
Jezebel’s looking down at her boobs. “Fuck it,” she says. “We’re not hiding nuthin’ anyway.”
She’s right. The thin gowns are almost see-through when dry. Now that they’re wet, they look like skin.
She pulls off her gown and tosses it over a rock. Jeroc bends down for it, wrings it out for her and spreads it out over the rock to dry properly.
With my gaze still averted from the naked barbarians, I whip my gown over my head and let it fall to my feet, then enter the water. The ladies all avert their eyes, but the men don’t bother. They look appreciative. For one moment a brief panic rolls over me, but then Tijar and Jeroc are there, entering the water with me, taking my arms, and sitting me between them. Blocking me, protecting me.
The water is warm and bubbly, and I lean back, letting my hair get wet. Drakar is washing Niki’s hair, and everyone else is whispering. Jeroc and Tijar talk back and forth, and then Tijar reaches for a soapcake. He says something to Lucie.
“He’s going to wash your hair,” Lucie calls out. “Apparently men take care of women here.” She rolls her eyes at Rayhaan, who looks like he wants to pounce on her every time she makes a move.
“It’s not so bad,” Niki giggles.
“Maybe I’ll try,” Jezebel says, crooking a finger at a hunter named Maca. He’s only too happy to jump to her. I’m barely aware of Aschero moving in on Miranda before my attention is taken up with Tijar. He gestures to me and then turns me to lay my legs over Jeroc’s lap. Jeroc holds them steady, and Tijar carefully dunks me so the top of my head gets wet.
This is the strangest thing, being naked in a pool with hot men. My body doesn’t seem to be aware that I came, so I’m all prickly hot again. Tijar’s large fingers lather my head, and I can’t help the moan that escapes. It feels delicious. Under the water, Jeroc rubs his large hand over my knee, massaging gently. I’d love to ask Lucie what the two of them are thinking. But I can’t, not without everyone listening. No, I’ll figure it out myself.
Jeroc doesn’t seem at all jealous that Tijar’s the one washing me. Granted, that’s all Tijar’s doing right now. Maybe Tijar is protecting me and keeping me as Jeroc’s? I could have sworn he was interested when I sat on his lap to have sandals made, but maybe I was wrong.
When Tijar finishes washing my hair, Jeroc hands him a comb that looks like it’s made from fish bones, but sturdier. He combs through my hair for me, and Jeroc still says nothing. Oh, they banter back and forth, but there’s nothing that sounds harsh, like one man touching another’s property.
One by one, some of the guys filter out of the pool. They dress slowly, then head to the main cave. Jeroc says something to Tijar, who nods. He turns to me and mimes eating.
“Okay,” I say.
“Some are heading to roast the meat,” Niki calls from across the way.
I smile at Jeroc. He looks so badly like he wants to say something, but then looks at Tijar, frustrated.
He takes my fingers and presses them to his lips, then murmurs, “Tessa.”
Wow. Did he just stake a claim in front of Tijar? I’m not sure, especially because Tijar leans me back against his rock-hard chest to watch Jeroc dry off and dress. He must be one that has to prepare the meal.
I’m very aware of what prods my back. Tijar may be keeping me safe for Jeroc, but he’s interested in my naked form.
We stay in the pool as abduction stories are tossed around, but I’m silent. Tijar’s warm hands are splayed out over my belly as he holds me, dangerously close to my breasts. Then everyone starts to leave the pool, and he and I are the last two out. He helps me up, and strangely enough, I don’t even feel shy about being naked. His loincloth goes on quickly, and then he turns to dry me. He’s careful about it, and I think he’s just copping a feel. I’m not about to protest, because damn if he isn’t sexy. He’s different than Jeroc, who trips my trigger too, but in a different way. No, Tijar is rougher, harder. Harsh. But yet, he’s the one bathing me and caring for me. Briefly I consider if Jeroc planned this, since I had personal time with him earlier. Maybe he wants me to decide which one I prefer.
That’s it. And that’s going to be a tough decision.
Jeroc joins us to eat dinner, and there’s laughter around the cave. It doesn’t seem to matter that we can’t understand what they say, we’re learning and figuring things out. Lucie and Niki translate as well as they can, but Lucie has Valencia clinging to her. Poor Valencia only speaks Spanish and doesn’t have a clue as to what’s going on.
One of the barbarians named
Atareek vies for her attention, but it only makes her panic and cling harder to Lucie.
Poor Lucie. It looks like she was just starting to accept the barbarian in the Mohawk who’s been chasing her around every bend.
Then the men are spreading furs around and apparently Tijar’s claimed me. He cuddles me onto his bed and Jeroc spreads his fur next to us. Jeroc doesn’t say anything. Tijar turns away to fix a blanket, and Jeroc takes my fingers, kissing them gently. Then he turns onto his back as someone puts out the torch.
Tijar moves back up and spoons me onto our sides.
I sleep all night with Tijar’s large hands under my gown, palming my breasts. I’m sure my nipples stay hard the entire time.
Chapter Three
From what I can figure out, the two men are still best friends. It doesn’t matter that I slept all night cuddled with Tijar. It doesn’t matter that Jeroc gave me a magnificent orgasm yesterday. Of course, maybe Tijar doesn’t know about that. Should I feel guilty?
It’s a bit confusing. Tijar is obviously interested, he pursues me relentlessly. He’ll push aside any of the other blue men who come around. But not Jeroc.
Truth is, I like them both.
I just don’t want them to get jealous and ruin their friendship. So I’ll have to stay single and not give any one person too much attention.
This morning, Jeroc is busy painting the war paint on everyone. He’s already painted Tijar, so Tijar takes me off alone. I don’t think Jeroc notices.
“Where are we going?” I ask, staring at the way his ass moves when he walks. It’s firm and tight, and I feel like squeezing it.
He smiles, because he can’t understand a word I’m saying. He points to a fruit that hangs from a tree and says, “Aglaia.”
“I’m not interested in the fruit that hangs from the tree,” I tell him, knowing he can’t understand a word I say. Hell, I’ve got two gorgeous men vying for my sexual attention, and I’m horny as hell from being pressed up against him all night with his warm hands over my nipples. I bathed with them last night, and while I wasn’t brave enough to look at what hung between their legs, I’m more than ready now. “I’m interested in the fruit that hangs beneath your loincloth.”
