Abducted: Alien Mate Index Book 1: (Alien Warrior BBW Science Fiction Paranormal Romance) (The Alien Mate Index) (14 page)

But another part of me was starved for sex and was having a damn hard time resisting.

Look, don’t judge me. Have I mentioned it was almost a year since my last uh,
encounter?
And that was with my ex, Scott, the world’s fastest lover. Seriously, he’d make a jackrabbit jealous when it came to screwing and as for foreplay, well, I don’t think the word was even in his vocabulary. Scott’s idea of sex was to squeeze my boobs a few times, tell me I was “looking hot tonight,” then jump my bones before I was even really ready. A few pumps, a squirt, and a tickle and we could be done before the commercial break was over so he didn’t miss a second of the game.

Needless to say, it wasn’t very satisfying. It was also one of the reasons I had broken up with him—although not the only reason. He’d also been a complete slob around the house and ridiculously cheap when it came to money.

But enough about my ex. What I’m trying to tell you is that he never held me down and kissed me like my mouth was the most delicious thing he’d ever tasted. Never spread my legs and teased me so slowly that I thought I would die of pleasure and embarrassment. And he certainly never talked dirty to me, while he looked into my eyes and took sadistic enjoyment from pushing me closer and closer to the point of no return.

“Let me
go,”
I begged Sarden in a moan.

“I’m not the one who’s holding you, Zoe,” he reminded me in his deep, growling voice. “You did that to yourself when you hit the bed’s pleasure function. While you were
aiming
at my
head.
Are you sorry for that?”

“No,” I whispered recklessly, unable to lie, even now. “I’d do it again if it would get…get me back to Earth.”

His face darkened for a moment and then he kissed me again, harder this time.

I felt the sting of his hot mouth on mine and I couldn’t help opening to him, even though I knew I should bite instead. One big hand tightened in my hair as the other slid up and down my body, using a much firmer stroke than his earlier light, erotic caress. I had the feeling that he really,
really
wanted to touch me but he was true to his word. Though the silver bed continued to twist and tease my nipples and stroke my swollen clit, his big, warm hands carefully avoided my sexual hot spots.

“Please,” I whispered again when he let me come up for air. “Please, I…I can’t…can’t come like this.”

“Yes, you can,” he murmured. “And you’re
going
to.”

“No…” I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the sight of him leaning over me, his golden gaze glowing in the dark.
“No.”

“Yes,” he whispered in my ear. “Now, Zoe—come for me
now.”

As he spoke, I felt the silver finger between my thighs stroke firmly against the side of my aching clit—moving just the way I moved when I touched myself.

How?
I thought deliriously as I tipped over the edge at last.
How does it know how to do that?

And then all rational thought slipped away and I was coming, coming and crying out in the night because I couldn’t help it…because part of me didn’t
want
to help it and never wanted it to end.

Sarden didn’t say anything else, he just leaned over and took my mouth again, eagerly swallowing my cries and moans as I shook and gasped…as my body took over and I came and came until I couldn’t think any more…

I don’t know how long it lasted—it seemed like forever. But at last I felt the pleasure ebbing and my body went limp as I panted, trying to catch my breath.

“So beautiful.”

I opened my eyes to see him looking down at me, those golden eyes glowing like two candle flames in the dark. “So fucking beautiful when you come, Zoe.” His deep voice was hoarse and the expression on his face was beyond intense.

“Let me go,” I whispered brokenly, unable to help begging. “Take me back to Earth—
please.”

“I can’t,” he murmured and for a moment I thought I saw genuine regret in his eyes. “I told you, I have no choice.”

“I don’t understand.” I blinked back tears, trying not to cry. I hate it when I get emotional after sex. It usually only happens when it’s a very intense experience—needless to say I hadn’t shed a single tear with Scott, even though we’d been together for over two years.

I hadn’t been with Sarden for a whole twenty-four hours yet and I was already getting weepy—and we hadn’t even really had sex, I reminded myself.

Right—tell that to my stupid eyes which insisted on producing tears. I sniffed hard, refusing to let them fall.

“I don’t understand,” I said again.

“You don’t have to understand.” Sarden’s deep voice was surprisingly gentle.

Up until now, he’d been leaning over me, propped on one elbow. Now he shifted so that he was lying beside me in the silver bed which had thankfully stopped its “erotic functions” after I came. Our heads were even but he was so much taller than me, the tips of my toes only came about to his knees. It made me feel like a little girl beside him.

“Sarden…”

“Sleep now,” he murmured in my ear.

“What? Like this?” I protested. “I can’t…can’t sleep like this,” I said and yawned despite myself. I still had my arms fastened firmly over my head and the black shirt was rucked up, leaving me exposed.

“You can and you will.” Sarden’s deep voice was stern. “If I can’t trust you to be alone in your room, you’ll have to stay in mine. It won’t hurt you to stay restrained—the bed will support you in every way.”

“But I’m
cold,”
I said. “At least pull down my shirt.”

“It’s
my
shirt. And I won’t pull it down—I like looking at you. I
will
warm you up, though.” He turned over on his side and put a big, warm hand right in the middle of my belly. It seemed to radiate heat and I felt tingles and tendrils of warmth running through my entire body. His hand was so big that the tops of his fingers were right under my breasts and his palm was down past my belly button.

“You bastard,” I said but not as angrily as I wanted to. I really was completely exhausted by this time. I could feel the weariness I’d fought off earlier in order to enact Plan B dragging at me—a slow, relentless tug like the tide pulling me out to sea.

“Yes, I’m a bastard,” he agreed amiably enough, his long fingers tracing a lazy pattern across my stomach. “I’ve been meaning to ask—what are these little patches of pigmentation all over your skin? I’ve never seen anything like them.”

“They’re called freckles,” I told him. “We don’t like them much on Earth. At least, the people who have them don’t like them.” I yawned again. Even though I was mostly naked in bed with a huge alien, I could hardly keep my eyes open.

“They’re beautiful,” he murmured. “Unique—just like you.”

“I…I’m sure Tazaxx will…will think so too,” I said, trying to be sarcastic through my yawns. Even sleepy, I can be snarky—it’s one of my special talents.

“I’m sure he will.”

Was it my imagination, or did the big alien sound sad? I wanted to ask but my eyelids were so heavy—it felt like someone had dipped them in lead.

The last thing I felt was his large, gentle hand stroking my skin and his warm breath in my hair. Then the sleep tide came in completely and dragged me out into a deep sea filled with unfamiliar stars—each of them further away from Earth than the last.

Part Two: In Over my Head (literally)

Zoe

They have a phrase they used to use in old romance books—bodice rippers I think they’re called. My mom had a ton of them lying around the house and I used to sneak and read them whenever I got a chance. Anyway, in all those old books whenever the heroine gets caught by the hero and they end up in some kind of sexual situation which she
says
she doesn’t want but she
actually
totally does, the books always say, “Her body betrayed her.”

I hadn’t really understood what that phrase meant until now. Waking up beside Sarden and remembering the events of the night before, I finally, totally got it. Oh boy, did I get it.

Stupid body—how could it have let me down like that? How could I get so hot and bothered for a man I didn’t even like? How could I let him make me come—well, technically it hadn’t been him, it had been the bed that made me come—but still!

The light in the room had brightened and had the same quality as early-morning sunlight coming through a window. That was what had woken me up—but what kept me awake was the way I was pressed against Sarden. I still had my hands fixed over my head but sometime in the night he had pulled the shirt down so at least I wasn’t exposed anymore. We were both turned on our sides and he was spooning me, his long, muscular body wrapped around mine protectively, radiating warmth.

It felt really good.

Which of course, made me mad. I didn’t
want
to feel good with him. I wanted to hate him, especially now that Plans A and B had both failed and I didn’t have a Plan C.

Well, maybe it’s time to think of one,
I told myself. But I had nothing. I sighed and wiggled in the plush bed restlessly. Sarden stirred and tightened his grip on me, like I was his favorite teddy bear or something. Give me a break.

I was about to wake him up when Al came zipping into the room.

“Master Sarden?” he asked in his proper butler voice. “Oh, and…Lady Zoe.” If a robot or A.L. or whatever can be surprised, he certainly was. “Why are you not in your own room?” he asked me. “Was it not to your liking?”

“No, she thought bashing in my head would be more to her liking.” Sarden’s deep voice rumbled through me, vibrating every inch of my body. He still hadn’t let go of me, despite his sarcastic words.

“What? I fear I do not understand.” Al sounded perplexed and his lantern-eye blinked uncertainly.

“It’s nothing, A.L.—I mean, Al.” Sarden yawned. “Did you come to tell me something? Have we reached Gallana?”

“We are in orbit around the main port now, about to land in their docking area,” Al reported. “But I have even better news—I have found a collector who is most interested in the medical equipment left behind by Herr Misener.”

“Who?” I asked.

“The previous owner of this ship,” Sarden replied absently. “That’s excellent news, Al. Did you set up a meet?”

“The buyer will meet you in the unattached males district at a café called The Suck Hole in one solar hour.”

“Perfect.” Sarden sounded extremely pleased. “That’s good work Al. Now all we need is a mechanic’s shop that will deal with unattached males as well.”

“That…might be more difficult. Such commerce is closely regulated,” Al said hesitantly. “Perhaps the Lady Zoe—”

“The Lady Zoe is going to stay right here aboard
The Celesta
under lock and key. It’s the safest place for her.”

“What? But I want to go too,” I protested, wiggling around so that we were face to face. “I told you—I’ve never seen an alien spaceport. Hell, I’ve never seen
any
spaceport!”

“That’s too bad,” Sarden growled, sitting up. “Because you’re not going to see one now either. I told you, the area I’m going to isn’t safe for you. And even if it was, I wouldn’t reward your treachery last night by allowing you to come.”

“It wasn’t treachery, it was self preservation!” I protested. “I just wanted to lock you up and go back to Earth.”

“You couldn’t have locked me up with those, even if you’d managed to get them on me.” He nodded at the manacles encircling my wrists. “They’re keyed to Vornish skin signature. One firm press of the lock-light would have set me free and then you’d be in the same position you are now.”

“I was just trying to get back home!” I snapped. “Can you honestly tell me you’d have done anything different in my place?”

“I most certainly would have—I wouldn’t have missed,” he said grimly as he did something to the manacles which were still keeping my arms above my head. “Now get up—I have just time enough to feed you first meal before I have to go meet this collector.”

“Feed me?” I protested, sitting up and rolling my shoulders as well as I could with my hands still cuffed in front of me.

Sarden raised an eyebrow at me.

“Would you rather I let you go hungry?”

“No, I’d rather feed myself. Like I did last night,” I said pointedly. “I know how to use the food-sim now, remember?”

“I don’t think so.” He frowned. “You lost your ship privileges when you snuck into my room and aimed a pipe at my head. From now on, I’m going to treat you like I should have from the first—you’re going to be shackled in your room from now until we get to Giedi Prime.”

“But—”

“Now what do you want for breakfast?” he asked, cutting off my indignant protest. “It will have to be something from one of my home worlds, unfortunately. Perhaps some Eloim
pandan
broth would do you good.”

I started to protest again but he was already up and out of the bed, busy getting ready to go and apparently not caring if I watched.

He’d been wearing a pair of long black sleep trousers kind of like pajama pants. Now he shucked them off and threw them into a small chute I hadn’t seen earlier.

He sauntered naked into the bathroom—which I could see from the bed—and got into the vertical bathtub tank. The purple cleansing liquid—which would have been well over my head, barely came up to his impossibly broad shoulders.

I shivered as I watched him dunk his head, letting the purple liquid close over him as though it was no big deal. For most people I suppose it wouldn’t have been. But for me…it was a whole different story.

I thought again of sinking in the watery depths, of the panicked cries ringing in my ears…and quickly pushed the memory away.

Sarden didn’t take long in the personal bathing chamber. In less than two minutes he was out and standing in the mister. He did something to the controls and warm jets of air came out instead of mist. Hmm, so apparently it could be used as
just
a dryer—you didn’t always have to get wet. Good to know if I was ever going to go into that freaking drowning-tank bathtub—which I absolutely was not.

Of course, I was watching the big alien’s bathing routine from the corner of my eye, trying to pretend I was concentrating on something else. I didn’t
want
to watch him at all but somehow I couldn’t help it—I’d never seen anyone so huge and muscular outside an action movie. Or maybe a male revue. One time Leah and Charlotte and I had gone to see The Thunder from Down Under—a male strip show from Australia. Those guys were in amazing shape—all muscular and oiled up but somehow none of them was half as hot as Sarden, though I would rather die than admit it.