by Sabrina Kade
Her taut nipples brush against my chest. “And you are… so much more than I ever thought you could be.” A rare, shy smile crosses her face. “No offense, it was just… you were so…”
“Charming?” I try. She snickers. “Attractive. Delicious. Sexy.”
“Annoying!” she says, slamming her mouth against mine and pulling away. “Arrogant. Such an arrogant, annoying alien.”
“Yes, but this annoying, arrogant alien belongs to you and only you.” I reach down and cup her ass, squeezing the flesh until she cries out. “And all of this belongs to me and only me.”
“Only you.”
Her voice shifts to something more enticing, hitting me right at the tip of my cock, and I groan again, keeping Layla in my arms while I quickly stand and shimmy off my shorts. I kick them to the corner of our lair and sit back down on the bed, keeping my beautiful mate in my lap and ease off her skirt and the thick band covering her breasts. Ahh now, this is what I want to see. My beautiful, bare, and natural mate. Her full breasts tipped with dark sensitive buds. Her full, rounded stomach. Her thick, soft thighs.
Scheita, I’m still not sure if I’m not a little responsible for making Layla feel insecure, but if I did, I’m going to make sure I never do so again. I don’t ever want to even think about the possibility of losing a moment like this with her. I pull her more deeply against me, loving the feel of her breasts pressing against my chest. I have only spent a few days without her, and already I am acting like a boy reading to experience pleasure for the first time. I feel my cock brushing against her cunt, and she gasps, encouraging me to rock my hips harder into the air.
There is nothing I love more than the little sounds that come from Layla’s lips when she is pleased with me. I never doubted that I would be a good lover, but it is incredible to hear the sounds as a reminder. I lower my chin and kiss her neck and collarbone. I bury my face in her dark hair and inhale deeply. There is no more hesitation. Only arousal and it is like the sweetest perfume from the most exclusive source on the fatherland. I feel Layla wiggling against me, her hands searching my entire body while we continue kissing, but after a while, I think we both realize that this is not enough for us.
It has never been. I don’t think it ever will be.
I spread my mate’s thighs further apart, exposing her cunt to the tip of my cock, and she throws her head back as though this is something she’s always waited for. I love her enthusiasm. I love her. I stand and spin so I can lower her to the bed on her back, and though she gasps once again, I cock an eyebrow at her.
“You are light in my arms, Layla.”
Her cheeks deepen one or two shades. “Then I guess it’s good I Chose you, huh?”
“It is the best.”
I fall to my knees, settling myself between her smooth, brown thighs and taste every part of her exposed skin. My scaled tongue traces across her, starting at the knee and then teasing around her cunt up toward her rounded belly. The hole there is no longer so much of a hole, but a button, and I can’t help wondering if it is now like the button between her folds and lick it carefully, stealing a look at Layla to gauge her reaction. “Is this okay?”
She nods. “It’s fine but lower.”
Ahh, so the new button is not the same as the one between her thighs. That is fine by me because the scent of her arousal is much stronger between her legs, and this is most certainly where I want to be. I lower my head more and drag my tongue from the bottom of her slit to the top, and Layla cries out, nearly crushing my head when her thighs attempt to slam together.
Feeling her all around me, surrounding me, I groan as a bead of precum appears at the slit of my cock. I want to bury my cock inside of her, but Layla often gets uncomfortable during pleasure, so if I want to hear her cry out, I must return to my work. The things a Sidyth has to do. I fight the urge to chuckle returning my tongue to her folds, flicking the button that makes her cry out. Her thighs squeeze me harder, but I am easily able to move them aside and continue, and when I’m ready to hear her cry to the deities I wrap my lips around that sensitive nub and suck on it.
“Dolan! Dios mío!”
This is what my Chosen mate loves. And I love watching her orgasm from my touch, crying out and thrashing her arms around as the aftershocks work through her body. Her hips thrust into the air, and aromatic juices flows from her folds onto the bed. I make sure to lap up every last drop because I enjoy the taste so much. Layla says that I am spicy and sweet, and that is good, but there is no way it can compare to her taste in my mouth. She is sunshine, and warm weather, open water, and banbask bread all wrapped into one.
“God, Dolan,” she cries out, fisting my hair and pulling my body up. Her legs are bent over the side of our bed, so though she is technically on the bottom; I can take her without laying across her body. “I need you! I need more!”
She does not have to ask me twice, and thrust inside her, not bothering with subtlety. Layla wouldn’t like it that way anyway. She wraps her thighs around my hips and guides my thrusts, doing that thing she does, crying out about scales and how I would be the best vibrator ever. I am not sure what this means, but apparently, they have toys on her fatherland that are similar to what I pack naturally. I feel bad for human males—
“Yes!” Layla cries interrupting my thoughts, and I realize now that she’s dragging her blunt nails up and down my hips, tearing at the flesh. I love when her little hands knead me there, and I increase my pace, knowing I will never get enough of this female. I glance down when I feel her movements change, and my sack tightens. “You make me feel beautiful,” she moans, and that’s when I come.
I hiss to the stars, the moons, and the stars as I fill my mate with everything I have and my seed pours into her with such intensity that she’s bucking and screaming and coming right along with me after another moment. She used to complain that my seed was cold, but she certainly doesn’t seem to mind it now, bucking as though trying to collect it. Pride fills me as I finish the last of my thrusts before collapsing on the bed next to her, rolling on my back and breathing hard while staring up at the ceiling.
“Dios mío, Dolan,” she says, her human accent coming out thicker than usual as it often does after pleasure.
“Yes. Dios mío.” I try saying the words just as she does because I know she likes hearing it. But she’s still panting hard, and I roll over to my side and rest my chin on my elbow so I can watch her come down from the glorious high we’ve created together. Her breasts and stomach rise and fall with each breath, and I could watch this motion for hours, I’m sure. I reach out and smooth my hand across her belly, feeling the tightness in it. There is something different in the feel, and probably something that would be best brought up to Chentan, but that is a concern for another moment. Right now? I want to lay here with my Chosen.
“You are beautiful, Layla,” I tell her again, just because I realize now how important it is that she hears it. Carrying a sprog cannot be easy. “You are as beautiful now as you ever were.”
“Do I have the glow?” she asks. When my eyebrows furrow, she breaks out into a grin. “It’s a human expression. When women get pregnant, they get this thing called a glow. They say it’s excitement for being a mom soon, but I think it’s just that we’re hot and sweaty.” She snickers, further confusing me. “So, I guess I don’t have a glow then.”
“You don’t need to look like a sun rayer,” I offer, still confused about this glow concept. I will have to ask Azan, as much as it pains me to admit I don’t understand something. “Your skin and body look perfectly fine to me.”
“My… ample body?”
I frown, unsure what the correct answer is. “I have a feeling that I am going to be in trouble with you no matter what I say, sometimes.”
“One of the many joys of being with a human female.” Her voice is teasing.
My eyes narrow. My Layla can be confusing at times, but it is something that I do not and would not ever change. She is my Chosen mate, and though
she has doubts about her beauty, I will always be there to remind her that she is perfect. Because that is what she is. I lean closer to her on the bed and capture her mouth with mine, enjoying the little moan of surprise that fills the air and the scent of more arousal to go with it. Encouraged by this reaction, I pull away and place my hand on her belly.
“I think someone needs another reminder of how beautiful they are.”
She grins back. “I couldn’t agree more. But after we’re spent, I want to check on Ellis.”
Her words leave me confused. Ellis? Hujun’s mate? “What for?”
“Because I’ll want her to check on me when I go through what she’s already done.”
Once again, I do not quite understand. But that is okay. I do not always have to understand everything my Chosen mate says or does. I only have to be there for her. Support her. Love her.
And pleasure her. (One of my favorite tasks.)
The End
Please check out book 1 in the Rebels of Sidyth series,
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CHAPTER ONE
Blythe
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When I signed a contract to become an entertainer, I had no idea I’d become an intergalactic Pretty Woman – let alone one shipped across the entire galaxy to whoever paid for me in advance.
I shouldn’t have been so eager, but the money was too good and signing the contract without taking anything too seriously came easily. The entire transaction was legit. Supposedly. There was nothing I could do once the ink dried on the paper. Who could I ask for help? My parents? My mom’s dead, and my dad’s the reason I signed the contract.
I could only hope the money promised was as concrete as the contract I had signed.
How would I know from five billion miles away?
Would I ever find out if the money I sent helped my dad at all? Did it matter? Would he still smile, in selfish relief, if he knew his oldest daughter had sold herself to spread her legs to the highest alien bidder?
This leads to me to where I’m at right now.
I glance around the room, taking note of the faces as the ship transports me to my next assignment. As usual, everyone’s young, female, and at least somewhat athletic. All the girls train when we have a free moment but having something in common didn’t exactly make us friends. Quite the opposite. We look out for ourselves, save for a few of the high-class entertainers who always manage to work jobs together.
Frowning, I lower my cup of water. This isn’t a terrible room. There’s enough space for all of us to stretch out, and there’s even a separate space if we need to take a piss. Accommodations have been a lot worse, but there’s still no telling how long this trip will last.
“Where are they taking us?” one asks, ruining my quiet assessment. I glance up to find a pair of piercing blue eyes fixating on my much darker ones.
That’s how it is on these journeys. So many girls turn to me for answers. I’m not exactly sure why. Maybe I look old or more experienced. Maybe I’m more approachable than the others. Either way, enclosed in this locked room with nineteen other women, I’m not surprised when several of them flock towards my corner. I lick my lips and take in the first who’s brave enough to speak to me, recognizing her immediately.
Doesn’t mean I have to be friendly about it.
“I don’t know, Ellis,” I shoot back, suppressing the trained politeness I use with clients. I don’t want to let worry show on my face, but this situation is outside the norm.
Twenty human females locked in pleasant enough accommodations, if not for the fact we’d all be forced to spread our legs later for whoever purchased us.
Still though, twenty? It seems a bit excessive. Maybe it’s for another alien bachelor party of some sort.
Sighing, I remember I deserve this. I signed the papers. I boarded the shuttle willingly without a second thought.
“There are twenty of us here, you know,” Ellis goes on, glancing around the sterile enclosed room. She openly expresses all my worries in her submissive, yet intelligent voice. “Twenty. What could anyone possibly want with twenty girls at once?”
“Bachelor party?” I guess sarcastically.
“Maybe they’re like the Entlas?” an unfamiliar girl asks hopefully, and I’m immediately drawn to her young face and near black eyes. “They weren’t so terrible. Some were kind.”
“Doubt it,” York says before swallowing. “Maybe they’re Sidyths?”
“You think they’re like the Pluefs? Or the ones with the fins?” The one with dark eyes swallows. “Or Drakens?” She finishes in a small voice.
A lot of these girls are new to me, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they’re new to the whole space whoring thing. There are formal training academies all over the galaxy, and they’re all buying up humans and humanoids with names I can’t pronounce. Humans are a commodity in the universe because no one cares about a human’s welfare. The mentality was, ‘what could we possibly do? Fly home? Alert the Galactal Federation? Please, go ahead’, followed by chuckling. Earth doesn’t belong to the Galactal Federation. To most, humans are only a few steps better than how humans view dogs. We’re pets. Adorable pets. Pets who can give pleasure.
And so, Human Whores became the accepted name for girls like us as a whole.
I’m sure it could be worse.
I turn my head slightly to face the one who asked about the Drakens and absently wonder what her deal is as I struggle to maintain my aloofness in this tiny space. If word gets around I know things – any things – they’d look to me as their leader. And in this world, the last thing I want is to be seen as a Madam. The less we know about each other, the better.
Made it less painful when we were separated.
“Drakens,” the woman continues. “You hear me? They could be Drakens.”
“I heard you.” I can’t hide my annoyance. Of course, I’ve considered the possibility of being purchased by Drakens. Probably for some gallivant party. Drakens could afford it, but I didn’t want to be part of some alien version of a bachelor party. Drakens – though rich – were not kind.
“So say something,” the girl continues.
“How about shut up?”
“I hope it’s not Drakens,” another girl mutters – Sloane. She’s a few years younger than me and dumb as a brick when it comes to books, but smart enough when it comes to staying alive. Her light blue eyes are in direct contrast to her blood red hair. She’s pretty. Most of us are. “Drakens are rough,” she adds softly.
“Not good tippers either,” one says hoarsely, laughing. Experience always rings in Arizona’s voice, so much so that a few others join in meekly, but I merely shudder along with Sloane. From across the room, I notice Arizona hasn’t changed much from when I first met her at a training academy. That’s how experienced girls like Arizona were.
They’d come in from time to time, between assignments, to teach the new girls a thing or two. She’s pretty enough, especially for working in this business since half of these girls were in kindergarten, but there’s also something I don’t like about her. Her stupid stage name? Her lackeys, Alaska, Dakota, and Kansas, who go with her on every job? Maybe her reputation around the stars?
Arizona does this. Arizona does that. Arizona never minds when I stick it there. Blah blah blah.
Or maybe it’s that even though she’s past thirty, she’s a horrible combination of looking young and acting like a bitchy mama hen. She has the most fantastic almond colored skin with a perfectly matched eye color. Her body’s tight and toned like a gymnast’s, and though she’s short, she commands everyone’s attention in every room. Rumor is she’s dominated a few aliens herself – an absolute rarity in our line of work.
Her lips pull into a smirk when she catches me looking at her, and unfortunately, I glance away too late before she notices. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” she teases, elbowing Dakota.
�
�No. I’m worried we’re heading to a Draken bachelor party,” I say, doing my best to keep my composure.
“Why?” Arizona smirks, lowering her eyes to my chest. “Oh. Yeah. I guess that would be a concern.” No one joins in Arizona’s laughter this time. They all know what she’s inferring, and she’s not wrong to point it out.
Drakens? Those motherfuckers hate massive tits. On the rare occasions I could get one to carry a conversation, I learned they got in the way when they wanted to suck the skin over my heart.
“Hey, at least you all have the latest language transmitters. They didn’t get a chance to update mine after they pulled the last one out,” one sulks. Mia – whatever her last name is, tugs absently at her ear.
“Oh boo-fuckity-who,” York sneers. “Consider yourself lucky you don't know what these creeps are going to say to us.” She pulls her knees up to her chest and looks around the room from her seated position on the floor.
York – I’ve worked with her a few times. She isn’t the prettiest chick in the room, but she is the smartest. Unfortunately, she’s also a smartass who uses sarcasm to mask how afraid she is of anything. She’s only twenty-one with decent dark blond hair and brown eyes, but she’s already seen some of the worst the galaxy has to offer, so her mouth’s permanently set in a skeptical frown. I leave her be for the most part.
“I don’t ever want to hear what these perverts think about humans in general,” Sloane says, and I can’t argue.
“Seriously,” Alaska says after getting an approving nod from Arizona. Her southern accent is still thick on her tongue. “Where are we going? Does anyone know anything?”
“My last owner didn’t say anything,” I say lowly.
“Neither did mine,” says Sloane.
“Use your brains, ladies. Twenty human females?” York says. “Most with language transmitters? Most having worked before? It can’t be good.”
“Maybe it won’t be so bad,” someone chirps up with a bright smile, and I immediately want to smack it right off her face. She’s young and inexperienced. Easy to see she hasn’t been broken in yet thanks to her styled white-blond hair and sparkling blue eyes. “I’m kind of excited. Traveling the universe isn’t something everyone can do.”
